As a child, I have no recollection of ever hearing the words “I love you” or “I’m proud of you.” I always had the feeling I was on my own to figure out life.

In the middle of my senior year, I quit high school, left home, and washed my hands of my family. But then I met my wife. She led me to follow Jesus, and my heart began to soften. It was after some Christian men took me under their wing that I began to grow in my faith.

In my early thirties, I started to ache for a relationship with my dad. At that point, we barely saw each other beyond Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July.

After much prayer, I invited my dad to lunch on his birthday. We had a great time, and it became an annual tradition. A few years into this, we left the cash register and walked to our vehicles, which were coincidentally parked next to each other. Without any forethought, I said, “Dad, can I give you a hug?”

Before I could think about it, Dad charged me like a grizzly bear. He threw his arms around me and squeezed so tight it took my breath away.

At that moment, all I could imagine was his own deeply buried pain. His father abandoned him when my dad was two, so he never had a father of his own to mimic—never had a father to tousle his hair or give him instruction about the ways of life. Add to that all the years that had gone by without a hug between us.

At the end of what seemed like a brief eternity, we drew back and put our hands on each other’s shoulders. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Warm, salty tears rolled down our cheeks.

I said, “I love you, Dad.”

He said, “I love you too,” and then we left. That was it.

Frankly, I’m not sure anyone could adequately explain what happened in those precious moments. Our souls were cleansed. A century of sorrows boiled to the surface briefly, and the intangible pain of what could have been melted away. A taste of the shimmering glory of paradise was ours. God’s gracious hand broke down a wall, and a reconciliation took place. I experienced unspeakable joy.

Without fanfare, preplanning, or expectation, that single moment started a healing process that forever changed our family. Before that day, verbal and physical affection were unheard of. But in the years that followed, hugs and verbal expressions of love became the norm—not just between my dad and me but among our entire family. Now, we always greet each other and say goodbye with an embrace and “I love you.” Today, I believe this transformation was a supernatural work of the Holy Spirit.

I’ve had several men describe similar experiences with their dads. Maybe you have, too. Hopefully, your parents regularly told you they love you.

But I realize it’s possible they didn’t. If that’s the case, does my story make your heart long to hear, “I love you, son”?

I encourage you to consider what kind of practical healing might need to take place for you, your loved one, or the men you know to be able to say, “I love you, Dad,” and have their dads say, “I love you, too.”