Father’s Day holds a deeply profound significance for me this year. It’s a day where I find myself reflecting not just on my own journey as a father but also on a powerful new chapter in my life—one that has deeply enriched my understanding of identity, belonging, and heritage.
Recently, my wife Tabitha and I were honored to be given names through a traditional Cheyenne naming ceremony held by a ceremonial man, who is also a beloved uncle of mine, Ernie Robinson. The ceremony took place near Ashland, Montana, nestled alongside the gentle currents of the Tongue River. It was an experience layered with meaning, history, and a profound sense of connection that I didn’t fully grasp until after the ceremony itself.
At 44 years old, I had quietly resigned myself to the idea that perhaps receiving an Indian name wasn’t something meant for me. Growing up in Billings, off the reservation, I often wrestled with feelings of separation from my culture. There were always whispers of doubt: Shouldn’t I know more of my heritage? Why do I feel like an outsider looking in at something that should inherently be mine?
Yet, standing there on Cheyenne land, hearing my uncle speak, I felt decades of those doubts gently begin to lift. As he shared the sacred oral traditions—the stories of our Cheyenne ancestors, their journeys, their courage, and their struggles—I found a missing piece of myself. His teaching were words that carried the weight of history, resilience, and identity. For the first time, these were not just stories from the past; they were my stories, my legacy.
The name I was given is “Bekese Hemeo’o,” meaning “Bird’s Trail,” a name passed down from my uncle Gus Harris, my maternal grandmother’s brother. Uncle Gus married into a Lodge Grass MT family of the Crow Nation, and it was deeply honoring to have some of their family—my family—attend the ceremony to honor him and, by extension, me. Their presence made me feel seen by our Creator God and Heavenly Father, and deeply connected to my relatives. It affirmed that despite growing up in the city rather than on the reservation, my heritage, identity, and the history I belong to remain unchanged and deeply meaningful. It’s a heritage I embrace proudly as an integral part of my journey.
The significance of my name “Bird’s Trail” moved me deeply. A bird’s trail, I learned, is visible only briefly before the tracks disappear, compelling you to look upwards. It symbolizes our human limitations; eventually, we must look upward to God for direction and salvation. This spoke to my soul profoundly, echoing my own life’s journey—a path of uncertainty that ultimately led to redemption when I turned my gaze heavenward and found Christ.
Equally profound was the naming of my wife, Tabitha, who received the name”Pavemeona’e, Good Road Woman.” This beautiful name symbolizes her journey, her spirit, and the paths she now chooses to walk—paths marked by integrity, kindness, and purpose. Witnessing her welcomed into the tribe intensified my sense of belonging. Our paths were officially intertwined through a shared cultural legacy, enhancing our familial bonds.
Teaching the “Fatherhood is Sacred, Motherhood is Sacred” classes has further enriched this understanding of identity and fatherhood. These classes have become the highlight of our week, offering connection, community, and powerful curriculum that serves as a doorway to genuine relationships. The beauty of these classes is found not solely in the lessons but in the authentic moments of love, growth, and healing shared within our community. We recognize and honor the resilience of our participants, who are the true survivors and warriors. They inspire us daily, and we feel deeply privileged to be invited into their lives.
Yet, Father’s Day can be challenging for many who may not have had positive father figures or perhaps no father at all. Many of the people we serve are experiencing family crises; fathers haven’t always been present or healthy role models, and this must be acknowledged. Even in my own story, there were many years I was not the shining example of fatherhood I had hoped to be. Good fatherhood doesn’t just happen—we have to actively unlearn unhealthy patterns and intentionally cultivate new ones. This journey requires internal work guided by the Holy Spirit, diligence, and a consistent turning toward Jesus.
When we open the Bible, we meet a Father who is perfect—our Creator God. Understanding who our Heavenly Father is reveals much about ourselves, as we are created in His image, the imago Dei. This pursuit of knowing God is essentially an identity journey. Over the past seven years since accepting Christ, my life has become clearer—not necessarily easier, but clearer in purpose and direction. I sought my identity in roles, wealth, and success, but my true essence and identity are found in Christ. As spiritual beings having a bodily experience, our ultimate journey is spiritual, returning to our Creator.
Today, I look at my family—my seven incredible children, four still living at home—and realize deeply how blessed I am. Having once lost the privilege of fatherhood and then regaining it through God’s grace, I now understand profoundly its value. Teaching these classes and walking alongside others reminds me of this journey and the profound gratitude I hold for the community that has supported Tabitha and me throughout our transformation. We are actively breaking cycles of dysfunction, building new legacies for our children, and nurturing these sacred relationships with intention.
Isaiah 43:1 (NIV)
“But now, this is what the Lord says—he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.’”
There is something sacred about being named—truly seen and called forth into identity. Isaiah 43:1 reminds us that long before the world gave us labels or roles, God Himself created us, formed us, redeemed us, and called us by name. In a world that often leaves us feeling disconnected or unseen, this verse is a steady reminder that we belong. Not because of where we were raised or what we’ve done, but because the Creator of the universe says, “You are mine.” No matter where your trail has led, the Father still calls your name—and in Him, your identity is secure. I encourage everyone reading this to pause and reflect: How can embracing your true identity, heritage, and spiritual journey positively transform your life and those around you? Thank you to each person who has loved us, supported us, challenged us, and poured into our lives. Our story, our journey, is just beginning. Happy Father’s Day to all fathers, and may this message bring encouragement, hope, and clarity to your own journeys. God bless you all.
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We invite you to listen to the Cheyenne spiritual song Ma’heo’o nehve’hoomestse, “God, look at me!”:
