As any parent can tell you, raising children is tiring. My boss who has four adult children shared with me that he was “tired for 10 straight years,” when his children were little. When non-fathers ask me what about it is so exhausting, it is hard to pinpoint one thing. I came to the conclusion then that it is everything.

It is the fact that I am here to serve them whether I like it or not. They need me, and if I do not tend to them, they run amok. It is especially stressing to mediate the fights between my 4-year-old, Madelyn, and my 2-year-old, Elijah. They love each other yet they fight consistently. They are two very different personalities and clash easily.

Madelyn is a pharisee. She loves rules and ensures that not only she, but also everyone else follows them. She is always on the lookout for rule violations and immediately brings them to our attention so correction can be made. This means she will correct me if I use the word “stupid” while talking on the phone (because, of course, it is a rule that you cannot call someone stupid). She is especially fond of correcting her little brother.

Elijah is at the horrible age that turns a loving, affectionate boy into a wild animal that says “no” more than he says “thank you” and seems to question our authority at every opportunity. He hits, kicks, spits, squeals, squawks and throws. It is, as Dickens wrote, “the best of times and the worst of times.”

It is challenging to remain patient with Elijah when he is being a “tyrant,” as I like to call it. Recently we were going to my mother-in-law’s house for a swim. He was driving us crazy. He and Madelyn were arguing with each other over something silly as always.

It went for a few minutes until we parents threatened punishment. Not long after, my son resorted to making animal noises. A shrill squeal came from his mouth that had everyone holding their ears. We were annoyed.

Madelyn started shouting at him to stop it, and the baby started fussing, obviously displeased by the sound as well. He enjoyed the reaction from everyone, so he did it again. Again everyone responded as they had before, so he did it once more.

This time we responded as any highly irritated parent would who feels they have lost control of a situation and are powerless. We yelled.

“Elijah, don’t do that again, or you are going to get a spanking!” we hollered.

Madelyn, the law enforcer, elected to help carry the message of our rules: “Yeah, if you don’t stop you are going to get a spanking,” she said accusingly. Now, of course, this added a new dimension to our problem.

“Madelyn, you are not the parent,” my wife added. And so it went for about 10 minutes on the way to grandma’s house. Scolding, mediating, sighing and considering whether or not to continue driving or turn around and go home. Ten minutes seemed like an hour in an environment like that. At last we made it. We turned them loose in the backyard while we caught our breath.

The struggle was not over of course. Playing has a tendency to turn into fighting and then into crying. When it did, they both sought us out in our air-conditioned sanctuary.

“He hit me!” the 4-year-old cried.

“She is being mean to me,” the 2-year-old defended. And around we went again on the crazy-go-round.

When I am completely stressed out from all the fighting, crying and questioning, I can lose my grip on sanity. It is then that I am likely to say or do something unloving, and therefore un-Christian. But when there are family and friends watching and perhaps even helping, it is easier to stay calm.

In all of this madness that we call life, God is there, just waiting to surprise me with an opportunity to be reminded of His love through what seemed like the least likely source, as He often does.

I was relaxing on the couch when my wife suggested that I swim with Elijah. Reluctantly I put my swim trunks on, a little self-conscious because I am beginning to grow a gut. As I eased in and my son reacted with joy at my presence my attitude inched toward optimism.

I played with him. I started to enjoy myself and forget the drama he directed in the car on the way there.

I was rewarded with something that only a child can give and only a parent can understand. Elijah wrapped his arms around me in the pool and whispered, “I love you, Daddy,” in his sweet and innocent toddler voice. Those words melt my heart. The pure and unconditional love that a child can express is precious beyond anything in this world.

It is why, I believe, Jesus told His disciples that “the kingdom of heaven belongs to those such as these.” Children love like no other human can love. They love—agape love—closer to the way God loves us, and that is why they are favored.

I was glad that I endured the fighting and the crying because, after it all, my son loved me. Knowing that my God, my wife and my children love me helps me to endure many things, least of all fighting and crying.