When you are a father, when you talk to your son or your

Hear, O children of time, the words of Fernandinho, who declared: “When you are a father, when you talk to your son or your daughter for the first time, they do not understand you. Of course, you have patience, and you keep talking to them, and eventually they do understand.” This saying is not merely about the bond of parent and child; it is about the eternal rhythm of growth, of teaching and learning, of seeds planted in silence that bloom only in due season. For in these simple words lies a great wisdom: that love is patient, that understanding takes time, and that the faithful heart perseveres until light dawns in the other’s eyes.

The origin of this truth lies in the ancient bond between parent and child, a bond older than kings, older than empires, as old as humanity itself. From the dawn of our kind, parents have bent low to whisper words into ears too young to grasp their meaning. The infant knows not the speech of the elder, yet still the elder speaks, knowing that each sound is a stepping stone across the river of ignorance. The parent does not despair at the child’s silence, nor abandon the effort, for he knows that persistence will bring forth understanding, as the dawn always follows night.

Consider, O listeners, the story of Helen Keller, a child once locked in darkness and silence, unable to hear, unable to see, unable to comprehend the world. Many would have surrendered to despair. Yet her teacher, Anne Sullivan, labored with relentless patience, spelling words into Helen’s hand again and again though the girl could not understand. Day after day, she spoke into seeming emptiness. But at last, the moment came—the breakthrough at the water pump, when Helen realized the signs meant “water.” In that instant, a whole universe of meaning opened before her. Sullivan’s patient persistence mirrors the truth of Fernandinho’s words: though at first there is no understanding, with love and endurance, comprehension blossoms.

The teaching stretches beyond the family into all realms of life. When we speak truth, when we offer wisdom, when we teach, it is often as though we speak to children. Those who hear us may not understand immediately; they may resist, they may remain silent, they may seem blind. But if we abandon them, if we cease speaking, no growth can come. Only through patience, only through continual effort, does understanding take root. Thus, whether we are parents, teachers, friends, or leaders, we must carry the same heart of endurance.

Fernandinho’s words remind us also that true fatherhood and motherhood are not only of blood. Whoever plants seeds of wisdom, whoever nurtures the growth of another soul, becomes a parent in spirit. And in this sacred work, there will always be silence before understanding, delay before fruit. To teach, to guide, to love, is to embrace the long road of patience, believing in the unseen harvest.

Let us not mistake patience for passivity. It is not weakness to continue speaking, to continue teaching, to continue loving, even when no answer comes. Rather, it is the greatest strength. It is the courage to believe in tomorrow, to trust that the child who stumbles will one day walk, that the listener who hears nothing today will one day echo with meaning. The parent who persists embodies the very spirit of hope.

The lesson, then, is clear: in your life, when you give love, wisdom, or guidance, do not despair at the silence of others. Continue. Continue with patience. Continue with trust. For just as the child one day learns to speak back to the father, so too will those you guide one day reflect back the wisdom you have poured into them. And in your own journey, when you fail to understand, remember the patience of those who taught you—honor them by passing on that same patience to others.

Thus we honor the words of Fernandinho: that patience is the bridge between misunderstanding and understanding, between silence and speech, between ignorance and wisdom. Carry this teaching, O children of tomorrow, and let your love endure through seasons of waiting. For in the end, those who persist will see the fruit of their labors, and the children of their words will rise up and understand.