“How am I supposed to know what a good dad is?” Jasper crosses his arms and slumps back against his seat. “I never had one.”

I take a breath and put down my plate of stewed greens and beef. A simple meal, shared with Mason and Jasper, the two brothers sitting around the table on my porch. The icy wind rustles through the air and Mason shivers, his sweater not enough for the evening chill.

Both young teenagers are thin for their age, a combination of working too hard, playing too much soccer, and not having enough to eat. They are constantly hungry and for me, I love seeing their faces light up each time I offer them a meal—giving myself the challenge to try and fill the deep caverns of their stomachs.

I push my empty bowl of stew aside and turn my attention to the older brother, Mason. At fourteen, he has spent half of his life as the man of his single-parent household.

“What do you think?” I ask again, cautious not to stir up the same frustration his younger brother had displayed. “What do you think a good dad should be like?”

Mason strokes his chin in the way he always does when considering difficult questions. Ever since I met these two brothers, Mason has shown an inner drive. Eager to grow up. Eager to be an adult. He never backs down from a deep conversation or the difficult questions I often ask.

“A good dad?” His gaze drifted to the metal roof of my porch. “I think a good dad shouldn’t get drunk too often.” He nodded, still considering. “That way, he has enough money to feed his family.”

In the world of rural Guatemala, alcoholism is rampant. It was by the grace of God that these two boys had not fallen into the same addiction as many of the young people in the community.

“And another thing,” Mason straightened with confidence. “A good father shouldn’t hit his wife.”

“Or his kids.” Jasper mumbled with a full mouth. He threw a quick glance at me before scarfing down his stew.

These two brothers had felt the blow of their drunken father’s boot on more than one occasion before their mother sent him packing six years ago.

“Alright.” I say. “What else?”

Mason shrugs. “I guess those are the most important things.”

“What about giving advice?” I ask. “Teaching his children how to do stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Mason snaps his fingers in agreement. “A good dad needs to teach his kids how to work.”

Jasper slurps down the rest of his stew and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “’Cause if not, they’ll grow up to be lazy bums.”

“It’s a risk.” I chuckle. “Okay, and what about what we’ve been learning at Bible study?”

Jasper’s eyes widen. “Ooh! I don’t remember.” He was never one for retaining book-learning. “What have we been talking about? God?”

Mason rolls his eyes at his little brother and throws out an insult that I immediately correct. “Sorry,” he apologizes with a shrug. “At Bible study, we’re learning about God being our father.”

“Correct,” I say.

“See?” Mason throws a hand at his brother. “If you’d just pay attention—”

“Anyway,” I cut in before they start fighting again. “Remember in Bible study how there was a whole list of verses showing how God is a good father to us. And we can use that list to know what kind of a father you guys should be in the future.”

Mason shivers again and grips his mug of hot chocolate. “Yeah, when I’m a dad, I’m going to teach my kids a trade and I’m never going to scream at or beat my wife.” There’s a flash in Mason’s eyes. Anger. And determination.

I turn back to Jasper, who now is eyeing the cookies I had brought out for dessert. “And you too, Jasper.”

“What? Me?”

“You may not have had a good father on this earth,” I pause and wait for him to look at me. “But you have Jesus in your heart. Which means you have the most perfect and good Father now and forever.”

He drops his head but not before I see the moisture gathering in his eyes. We sit in silence for a moment before he looks back at me. “Can I have a cookie now?”

I laugh and offer the plate to both boys. “Of course you can, my dear little brothers.”