From San Jose to Brooklyn Park: A Father’s Full Circle
By Dr. James C. Rodríguez, MSW
President & CEO, Fathers and Families Coalition of America
Keynote Speaker, 2025 Global Fatherhood Awards
There are moments in life that don’t just happen—they return. Like the opening chords of a song that’s been living in your spirit for decades, they rise again—familiar, warm, and powerful. They call you back to the places where you first found your voice, to the people who shaped your steps, to the dreams that once felt too big for your hands to hold.
The seeds you planted in silence? They’ve been growing all along—quietly, steadily—until one day the branches of your life are bending under the weight of a harvest you almost can’t believe is yours.
On August 23, 2025, I will walk onto the stage at the Global Fatherhood Awards in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota—an evening set aside to honor extraordinary fathers who have lifted families, inspired communities, and built bridges for generations to cross.
But before there was Brooklyn Park, before the lights, the microphones, and the applause—there was San Jose State University.
I was 32 years old. Still finding my rhythm. I'm still crafting my own professional melody, but I've already composed some major pieces. By then, I had developed and led several multimillion-dollar, award-winning grants—one supporting young fathers, another supporting young mothers.
Those works opened a door—an invitation to serve as a keynote speaker at San Jose State University, following none other than Mr. Les Brown. The audience? Primarily young Latino and Black parents, many still teenagers, navigating the heavy responsibility of raising a child while trying to grow themselves. Since then, I’ve been honored to keynote on stages across the globe, teaching and inspiring individuals from countless nations. Yet as I prepare for this special keynote on August 23, my mind keeps circling back to that truth I’ve lived and seen over and over again:
When purpose and passion intersect, nothing—nothing—can stop a person.
There are moments in life that don’t just happen—they return. Like a bass line you can’t forget, they come back—sometimes years later—reminding you of the first time you felt them. The seeds you planted in silence, the dreams you whispered when nobody was looking—they start moving again, bending the branches of your life with the weight of the fruit you’ve been growing all along.
On August 23, 2025, I’ll step onto the stage at the Global Fatherhood Awards in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota.
We’ll be honoring extraordinary fathers—men who lift families, inspire communities, and leave legacies.
But before this stage… there was another.
A Pinstripe Suit and a Baby’s Blessing
I wore a sharp navy-blue Stacy Adams suit that day at San Jose State University—light blue pinstripes catching the light, polished Stacy Adams shoes carrying me into the room with shoulders squared in purpose. In the crowd, my eyes landed on a young mother struggling to feed her baby. The child was fussing, squirming, the kind of cry that tells you something deeper is off. I could see it—the overfeeding, the discomfort, the stress building between them.At 24 years old, I knew that dance well. I had been a single dad, learning to balance bottles and bills, late nights and lullabies. My baby girl was 18 months old then, my son almost 3 when I first learned that feeding isn’t just about food—it’s about connection, patience, and presence.
I knew what it was to want help but not want to ask for it.
And I recognized that look in her eyes—searching the room for rescue but holding back. So I walked over, sat to her left side, and in the gentlest tone I could find, I asked for permission:
“Would you like me to help you?”
With her nod, I showed her how to massage her baby’s back, how to mix the formula—just right, not too much, not too fast. I didn’t come as a lecturer or an expert. I spoke to her like a brother. Maybe like a father figure. Maybe just like another soul who saw her.
And then—it happened.
The baby released it all. Not a little. Not a burp. A full-blown eruption—from the bottle to my suit, my shirt, my shoes.
But not my pride.
Because here’s the thing: I was more nervous about the keynote I was giving the next day than I was about my suit. And in that moment, I could almost hear God laughing, teaching me a lesson in humility right there in the middle of that room.
She was horrified. I laughed. I told her, “It’s okay. I’ve already been a dad. I’ve been thrown up on before. I got it.”
You see, there is something about being gotten—about knowing in your bones that the experience of being a dad isn’t something you read about. You live it. And it marks you—with joy, with mess, with meaning all at once.
I even smiled and told her, “This is why dry cleaners exist.” We laughed together, and as if to seal the moment, her baby settled in and rested peacefully against the left side of my chest.
That was my first keynote. Not polished. But real.
And it has stayed with me through decades of work, not as a speaker, but as a dad who never stopped learning. From the moment I became a dad—not just a father—at 21, to this very day, those lessons keep playing in my soul. Ultimately, it’s a reminder that real moments—full of joy, mess, and humility—are often the most impactful and memorable. And it has remained with me through decades of work, not as a speaker, but as a dad who never stopped learning. As a dedicated single dad, I've had the incredible joy of raising my children for over 90% of the time. Looking back, I wouldn't change a thing, because every experience has taught me valuable lessons that have shaped who I am today. These lessons have helped me appreciate the journey and the blessings along the way.
The HVAC Technician, a Rosary, and Ikigai
Arizona in the summer is its own kind of test — where the sun feels personal and the heat doesn’t just warm you, it owns you.
It was around the Fourth of July. At that point in my life, it was just me again — a single father, this time with my youngest daughter, Jazmin. Life had come full circle. That day, the air conditioner gave out. The house felt like it was holding its breath, refusing to give me even a breeze. Then came the knock at the door.
It was Daniel Aguilar, the owner of Aguilar AC/Heating — now that is a legacy, to build something with your own name on it. He wasn’t just an HVAC technician; he was a business owner, a father, and a man who worked alongside his son. They didn’t just work together — they built something together. And that’s a different kind of success. Daniel came to finish the job. The Arizona heat was relentless, but he worked with focus and pride. As he wrapped up, I walked into my room and pulled out something I hadn’t seen in years — a thick, beautiful, 30-inch wooden rosary that I had brought back home from an abroad TDY (veterans know what TDY means, lol). I felt it was time to give it away. I placed it over his head. It wasn’t about religion. It wasn’t about payment. It was about recognizing the effort, the work ethic, and the kindness that stood before me. I believe in 猷 ici Ichie (一期一会), a beautiful Japanese idiom that translates to "for this time only" or "one encounter, one opportunity." It reminds us of the preciousness of every moment, urging us to cherish each experience, as it will never be exactly the same again. Embrace each encounter with gratitude and make the most of it. Over the years, I've reached out to Daniel from time to time, but that rosary was truly a special blessing to give in that moment, just as many of us have had the blessing of both giving and receiving blessings.
We ended up in my backyard, sitting in the shade, cooling off from the heat. And we just talked. Not about invoices or deadlines, but about life. Family. Fatherhood. Work. Legacy.
And it struck me — in so many professions, in the military, in business, in public service — there are men who do great things. They lead, they build, they protect. But the men who stand out? The ones who leave a lasting mark?
- They do it with kindness.
- They do it with passion.
- They do it with authenticity.
That’s Ikigai. That's Ichigo Ichie.
It’s the moment when what you’re good at, what you love, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for all meet — and you live it fully. Daniel Aguilar embodies that. As I reflect on the fathers who will be honored at the Global Fatherhood Awards, I realize this is what we celebrate — not just their accomplishments, but the heart behind them.
Fatherhood and the Prodigal Truth — A Love That Holds All My Children
Few people know this: I have tried to be a good father. And I believe I have been a great dad. But fatherhood is not a straight road—it has curves, detours, and seasons where unspoken emotions can build walls. For me, one of those seasons was with my firstborn son, Antonio—the one who first put the word “Dad” on my life.
We have shared our moments together. There was a challenging period—nearly a whole year—when our bond wasn't as strong as I desired. Yet, just recently, we connected through a workout. His embrace and kiss on the cheek afterward filled me with profound emotion. In that serene moment, I realized something sacred: no medal I have ever received compares to the honor of being called “Dad.” That warm August day in 2025 not only reminded me of my son but also of my beloved daughters, Amber and Jazmin. They are not merely part of my life—they are my life. Their light, spirit, and strength have profoundly shaped my soul in ways I never could have envisioned.
There is something deeply divine about being a girl dad. You don’t just protect your daughters—you grow because of them. So when I say I would stay in Arizona because of my son, what I truly mean is this: My son grounds me, and my daughters sustain me. I live in love with all three—equally, endlessly.
There’s a parable in the New Testament—whether you believe in God or not, the truth still resonates. It’s the story of the Prodigal Son.
But here’s the reality:
It’s not really about the rebellious son.
It’s not even about the resentful brother.
It’s about the father.
The patient father.
The unwavering father.
The father who waits, who stays present, who never stops holding space for his children to return—no matter how long it takes.
That’s who I strive to be.
And here’s the truth for every parent—whether you’re a dad, a mom, or a guardian—patience is more than a virtue in parenting. It’s a lifeline. When we stay present—even in seasons of distance—our children will feel that tether of love. And when they circle back, they will know it’s safe to come home. Resilience isn’t just surviving adversity—it’s choosing to love through it.
For all the fathers who will be honored at the Global Fatherhood Awards, my encouragement is this:
Stay present. Stay resilient. Because no matter what the season looks like, love has a way of circling back.
With Antonio, I was always dedicated to nurturing our relationship. When he asked me if I wanted an apology, I stopped him and explained, "No," because "A Son Never Forgets" and "A Dad Never Stops Loving." Instead, I chose to show him love—not out of obligation, but from a genuine desire for him to know that you are my son, and I hear you. Unconditional love isn’t based on actions or words; it simply exists. I deeply understand what my son experienced in the military, and that compassion guides me. If I can be compassionate to many, why not start with my own children? Yes, it’s challenging—many parents understand the struggles of raising a child "JUST LIKE YOU." The story above keeps me grounded, reminding me to be patient as a father and to seek the same patience from my Creator and family. I know I am imperfect, but my imperfections serve as a testament to my journey—living and leaving a legacy of love. Let this inspire us all to lead with compassion, patience, and unconditional love.
We don’t stop being dads because there’s conflict.
We adapt.
We grow.
We learn when to be the coach, when to be the friend, and always, always to be the father.
Being a dad changes you. But you can’t parent solely as a coach, or solely as a friend—you must be both in the right moments.
As I think about the fathers from the Greater Minneapolis area coming to this event, I see an opportunity for them to remember how truly awesome they are. This is our chance to build legacy—but not a legacy rooted in negativity or division. A legacy that allows our children to say, “I love you”, to hug us, to kiss their mom, and to stay connected through the years. I have three children, and I’ll tell you this: my 36-year-old still gives me a hug. And that means more to me than any award I’ll ever receive. I believe the same for the dads who will be honored on 25 August 2025!
The Four Seasons of Life — A Legacy of Growth
I’ve come to believe that every life moves through seasons — not just the kind we measure by months or calendars, but seasons of the soul. These seasons aren’t always neat or predictable. They arrive with their climate, their demands, and their opportunities to grow. And if we learn to understand them — not just survive them — we discover that every season is sacred.
Spring – The Cultivation Before Birth
Spring happens before you ever take your first breath.
It’s the season when your story is already being written — in the choices, sacrifices, and struggles of those who came before you.
Your parents, grandparents, and ancestors are tilling the soil of your life, whether they realize it or not. Some of us inherit rich, nourished soil — love, stability, opportunity.
Others inherit ground that’s been left hard and dry — the result of pain, loss, or neglect passed down through generations. But here’s the truth: even hard soil can grow something beautiful if someone takes the time to break it open and tend to it. And sometimes, we are the ones called to be that gardener — to turn the soil we were given into something better for those who come after us.
Summer – The Planting and the Shock
Summer is when you are planted in the ground — planted in your youth.
It’s a season of energy, learning, mistakes, and stretching. But here’s what people don’t talk about enough: if a young tree is planted without care — no loosened soil, no water, no shelter from harsh winds — it goes into shock. It may grow, but it will struggle.
That’s what happens to so many of us in our teens, twenties, and even early thirties. We are “planted” into adulthood without the nourishment we need — no clear guidance, no consistent love, no healthy example to follow. And we either wither… or we fight to put down our own roots. But when summer is tended well — when mentors step in, when healthy love surrounds us, when purpose begins to reveal itself — our roots take hold. And that’s when growth becomes inevitable.
Fall – The Harvest
Fall is where I am now.
The harvest season is a mirror. It shows you what you’ve been planting all along — in your habits, your relationships, your inner life.
If you’ve spent your years sowing goodness, discipline, integrity, and love, your harvest will be sweet.
If you’ve poured in bitterness, resentment, selfishness, or fear, the fields will bear that too.
Harvest is also humbling because no matter how much good you’ve planted, there will always be weeds to pull, lessons you wish you’d learned earlier, and apologies still waiting to be made. This is the season where I pour back — where I teach, mentor, and give away the lessons I fought for. It’s where I try to ensure my children, my community, and those I serve can pick fruit from my tree that nourishes them, even after I’m gone. And like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, I’ve learned that the cracks in my life — the breaks, the losses, the failures—can be repaired with gold. Those golden repairs don’t hide my flaws; they make them part of my beauty.
Winter – The Wisdom Season
I’m not there yet. But I can see it on the horizon.
Winter is not about slowing down into nothingness — it’s about storing up what matters most so it can last. It’s the season of storytelling, where the wisdom you’ve gathered is passed down to keep others warm. Winter is when you’ve stopped needing to prove yourself, not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve become. It’s when your silence can teach as much as your words.
It’s when the younger ones come not just for your advice, but for your presence, because your presence carries peace.
The seasons will change whether we like it or not. But if we tend to each one with intention — if we stay present, resilient, and open to the lessons each season brings — then our life becomes more than a timeline.
It becomes a garden.
And the fruit of that garden is the legacy we leave behind.
August 23: A Day of Legacy and Light
The seasons of our lives aren’t meant to stay locked inside of us. They’re meant to be shared, to feed others, to inspire, and to pass on. And that’s why Minnesota matters to me. On August 23, 2025, in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota, the Global Fatherhood Awards will honor fathers who have planted in every season — fathers who have worked their fields in times of drought and abundance, fathers who have built legacies with both their hands and their hearts. This isn’t just another event on the calendar. It’s a gathering of men whose lives tell the story that legacy is not an accident — it’s cultivated, season by season.
And at the heart of this celebration is a man I deeply respect: Samuel Mwangi.
Samuel’s passion is not just professional — it’s personal. He has spent his life empowering men, especially in immigrant communities, to find their voice and speak out on the issues that shape their roles as fathers: income and racial disparities, spousal abandonment, domestic abuse, an unfair justice system, incarceration, and loneliness.
I’ve known Samuel for over a decade. He has volunteered at our international conference off and on during those years — always arriving with one of the biggest smiles in the room, always bringing warmth, always leading with grace.
This year, under his leadership, the Global Fatherhood Foundation will gather fathers from across the Greater Minneapolis area and beyond, not only to honor achievements but to honor the way those achievements were built:
With kindness,
With passion,
With authenticity
And with a deep commitment to family.
Final Reflection: The Power of Becoming
Never underestimate where you come from.
Never underestimate the storms you’ve walked through barefoot,
The walls you’ve climbed without a ladder,
The nights you prayed for morning, and it still felt far away.
Never minimize what happens
When passion catches up to purpose
And they decide to dance in your life
Like they’ve been waiting for this song all along.
There is a difference between a father… and a dad.
I had a father.
But I never had… a dad.
And now, by God’s grace,
I am one.
A dad listens differently.
A dad shows up even when his pride is bruised.
A dad stands in the doorway of your mistakes,
Not to block you from coming home,
But to make sure the door never closes.
So to every man who has held a child…
To every father searching for his way back…
To every soul wondering if your scars are too deep to heal…
Your season isn’t over.
It may just be beginning.
And maybe, just maybe,
the cracks in your story are where the light has been trying to get in.
Honoring the Global Fatherhood Foundation
The Global Fatherhood Foundation (GFF), rooted in Brooklyn Park, Hennepin County, Minnesota, is more than an organization — it’s a movement of advocates, mentors, and builders of legacy.
They empower fathers.
They strengthen families.
They foster youth integration,
Bridging generations and cultures with the belief
That strong fathers are the backbone of strong communities.
Their mission is simple but powerful:
To give fathers a voice,
A platform,
And a support system
To face the challenges that test their role in both family and society.
And here’s what makes them rare —
95% of their staff and contractors,
And 100% of their Board,
Are leaders who know the immigrant’s road,
The refugee’s resilience,
And the lived reality of being a person of color in America.
They lead not from theory,
But from testimony.
From the bruises and blessings of lived experience.
From the unshakable truth
that purpose, when guided by authenticity and compassion,
can shift the future of an entire community.
Strong fathers.
Strong families.
Stronger tomorrow.
Learn more: www.globalfatherhoodfoundation.org
Event Details
Date: Saturday, August 23, 2025
Time: 5:00 PM – 8:30 PM CST
Location: Brooklyn Park Community Center
5600 85th Ave N, Brooklyn Park, MN 55443
Keynote Speaker: Dr. James C. Rodríguez, MSW