Discovering Fatherhood

Category: children

  • The Fall

    Photo May 31, 8 37 01 AM

    A few nights ago my wife and I had dinner with friends. We came home looking forward to settling down and getting ready for bed. My settling down was interrupted by my wife’s screaming voice raised in alarm and panic, “Claire fell down the stairs!”

    I flew down the steps. Actually I think I teleported because I don’t remember actually going down any steps. Claire was wailing as loud as she could, sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Our hearts were instantly in pain. I picked Claire up and held her close to my chest as if trying to absorb the pain. Jess’ nurse training kicked in and told me to gently put her down so that she could check her. Jess checked for broken bones, bruising and other important things. Claire looked fine. I picked Claire up after her medical exam was done and held on tight…well sort of. I didn’t want to squeeze too hard just in case.

    Claire started laughing and moving around almost instantly. Jess and I—after some intense observation and speaking to an on call nurse at the local hospital decided Claire was okay and did not require further medical care (there are great benefits to being married to a nurse). Claire walked around laughing for the next two hours as we kept her up in case of a concussion.

    Holy crap that was scary!

    I can’t begin to explain how helpless I felt not being able to protect my little girl. The worst part of it is that it was my fault that I didn’t check the stair gate before putting Claire down on the ground. Jess and I didn’t really ever settle down that night. We were tense from the fall and the thought of Claire tumbling down the stairs was worse than any nightmare we could ever have. Our neighbors comforted us by stating that their young son had fallen down the stairs several times and was fine. In a weird way it is comforting to know that we are not the only people who have had their children fall down a flight of stairs. Luckily they were carpeted stairs.

    Claire is okay and she is running around like normal. Every now and then she walks pass the stairs and points at them. A healthy fear of the stairs will go a long way for her. This fall has me thinking of all the potential falls Claire has yet to encounter. Not necessarily down the stairs, but in life. Her first betrayal by a friend, her first encounter with a bully, her first fight with the ugliness of evil, her first heartbreak. As much as I want to protect Claire from these falls some will be unavoidable. As I held Claire after her fall down the stairs all I wanted to do was absorb her pain. I think every parent wishes they had this ability. It would bring so much comfort to us.

    Falls will continue to happen and this dad will continue to wish for the ability of his hugs to absorb his little girl’s pain. The hugs wont absorb the pain, but they will introduce a new feeling—love—and maybe that will be enough to combat the pain from these falls. Maybe my little girl after falling will recognize that daddy’s hugs can have the power to bring comfort and safety amongst falls, and maybe bring a smile to a once frowning face.

  • The Power of a Child

    power of a child

    There is this couple at my church that when I look at them I think ‘sophisticated’. The wife has a certain elegance that is natural to her. The husband is someone that you can tell is very educated and commands authority. This couple is always well dressed. Wife, in expensive 5th Avenue type dress and the husband in Armani suits and shoes that cost more than my entire wore drove combined.

    This couple has two young boys very close in age. The boys are good kids, but they are two and three years old, so the idea of being still in Church does not compute. There have been numerous times in which the mom tries to get the boys to sit still with no success. The father, whose strong stare probably makes his employees straighten up to attention, does little to these boys in Church.

    So 5th Avenue mom will get down on the ground inside the Cry Room and sit with the boys as they eat Cheerios on the floor. Armani dad whose authority, importance and rank is unmatched at work finds himself getting on his knees, begging his kids to be quiet and eventually succumbs to playing trucks with his boys because this is the only way to calm them down. The 5th Avenue dress and Armani suit are covered in slobber, cheerios and what looks like snot.

    Children have a unique power.

    For those of us who wear 5th Avenue Dresses or Armani suits we would never crawl on the ground with them, have people rub their dirty hands on them or noses for that manner. Yet our children have a unique power over our lives that grant them top-level clearance on us. No one else could ever get away with the things our children do or ask of us. This couple also marvels at the power their children have over them to do things that in all other circumstances would be unacceptable.

    I once heard it said that if you had the President, Congress and a crying child in the room together the child would have the most power out of these three. Presidents and Congress have authority conferred on them which gives them great power, but a crying child could stop all of them dead on their tracks in order to do whatever it takes to make the child stop crying.

    Our children change us. They need to. Things like 5th Avenue dresses and Armani suits matter little when our flesh and blood needs us. Rank and authority seem silly when our child is hungry and must be fed. Power is ridiculous when a child cries and needs to be picked up.

    I think about these things and realize that to exercise true power and authority there must be openness to humility. 5th Avenue mom and Armani dad are humble enough to get on their knees in their expensive clothes to take care of their children. This humility is something we need to embrace. We will need to get on our knees to take care of our kids. We will need to accept that they will spill, puke and poop on us. To some this may seem like weakness, but it isn’t. Humility is a great companion to power, without it there is only cruelty. Humility allows mercy, and love to enter in. Power with mercy is justice. Power with love is grace.

    I look at my daughter and the power she has over me. At times I do not want her to have that kind of hold on me, but that power humbles me. It changes me. That power helps me to be a man that recognizes the importance of exercising my power over her with great love and mercy.

  • A New Tradition

    As a Youth Minister I have come to see that 95% of the issues many kids have are in one way or another related to daddy issues. Whenever I have a kid come to me about drugs, behavioral, social, spiritual, sexual and or emotional issues a majority of the time it all goes back to their relationship with their father or lack of one. The flip side to this is that whenever I have kids who are confident, happy, and generally doing well it is because they tend to have a good relationship with their father. When I counsel teens I always ask them about their relationship with their father. Typically, this is where I get many of the answers I am looking for.

    I have read several articles and studies on the importance of fathers being present in the lives of their children and they all say the same thing and confirm what I experience in youth ministry. Frankly, it pisses me off. If I can be blunt.

    I recognize there are countless of factors as to why fathers can be inadequate, absent, not good enough, but whatever the reasons the result is always a damaged child. Maybe not badly damaged, but definitely with issues.

    I do not want my daughter to have issues because of me.

    So as of yesterday I am starting a new tradition. At least once a month until my children get married, enter religious life or move really far away I am going to go out on dates with them. I’ll come up with a better name than ‘dates’ for the boys, but for now that’s what I’ll call it. I will take Claire out on a date with me. We will go out just her and I and spend some quality daddy time. We may go to the park, chase things, pray, get Chick-fil-a or all of the above. The point is to spend time with my daughter and build a relationship where she recognizes her dignity, worth and that she is loved beyond all things.

    These dates right now will be simple. We will spend them hanging out and helping establish her confidence by going down slides, or walking across the playground bridge by herself. As Claire gets older the dates will be a little different, the conversation will deepen, but my hope is that she will never have the insecurities and issues that are caused by a missing, uncaring, or physically-present-yet-not-there-father.

    I’m not crazy. I know my daughter will still have issues—we all do. However, whatever those issues are I pray they will not be due to something I did or didn’t do. I don’t know if there is a list out there that fathers can consult to see if they are doing things right and helping their kids to be confident, recognize their worth and dignity. I think spending quality time, showing you love them and asking forgiveness when we fail is definitely key to this.

    So for now I have to come up with creative ideas for taking my 13-month-old girl on a date. I welcome any thoughts!

  • Beams

    beam

    Yesterday I finished putting together a boxed perimeter around my daughter’s little playground area in our yard. It consisted of a couple of 6x6x12, and other similar sized beams and some metal stakes to connect them. Eventually we will fill it with rubber mulch and put her swing set on top of it. It took me about three days total to put the beams together.

    As I was buying the beams at Home Depot I couldn’t help but realize how heavy these things were. As I began to assemble the box perimeter in the yard there were a few times when I dropped the beams, stumbled carrying them or got a splinter from them. These beams were crazy heavy and big—twelve feet of anything is going to be heavy!

    It was a labor of love for my daughter.

    Yesterday was Good Friday. All of Christianity celebrated the death of its savior, Jesus. As I assembled these beams I had this reality on my mind. Jesus carried his beams. The wood was heavy and as I moved, dropped and dragged it I was reminded of Jesus journey to Calvary. After the beams were set the metal stakes were driven through the wood to connect them. My hammer struck the metal stakes and clinked, each time reminding me that metal stakes are what held my Lord on His beam.

    Clink, clink, clink.

    As I drove the last stake I got up exhausted. “It is finished,” I thought. I looked onto these wooden beams and found satisfaction. “My daughter will find so much happiness and joy playing here.” I wonder if this is what God the Father thought as He looked on His son and His beams? “My children will find satisfaction through this.” I never expected to have such an awesome, prayerful experience building this wooden box for my daughter. It was truly a gift.

    May we see that the beauty of the cross, though filled with pain, exhaustion, and blood, was a labor of love. May we discover more than just our own fatherhood.

  • Cor Meum

    heart in handIt is hard to believe, but my daughter turned a year old two weeks ago. I blinked and she had teeth, hair, and now she moves. Everyone says that the first year flies by and everyone is right.

    My wife and I had a little birthday party for Claire at our home with family. Someone asked me, “How does it feel to have a kid?” I gave a simple reply, “its amazing.” It is amazing, but there is so much more to it than that.

    This is what I was really thinking.

    I feel like the moment my daughter was born my heart was ripped out of my chest. No anesthesia, no scalpel, no warning—ripped out. It was given arms, legs, and the ability to move. My heart was no longer secure and protected by my rib cage. It was out, exposed, and vulnerable. My heart was no longer mine. In this exposed and vulnerable state, I loved it and yet feared for it. My heart—I guess I should call it by her new name, “Claire”—is the most painful and most beautiful thing to ever happen to me.

    Claire moves, falls, cries, laughs, and smiles. Each movement, action, and emotion tugs at me. It is an incredible metaphysical-like-experience. She smiles and I feel it, she cries and I experience it, she laughs and I enjoy it. The feeling of this walking, breathing, and exposed heart is much more sensitive. My heart has never felt like this before. I have never had it hurt or be filled with joy so easily.

    It is something words cannot fully describe.

    It doesn’t just end with Claire and me. My wife and I are united in this indescribable metaphysical-like-experience. We simultaneously feel when our heart falls and hurts herself. We can be overwhelmed by our heart’s piercing laugh and tear up at her beauty as we gaze at her. My wife and I are more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

    It is beautiful and excruciatingly frightening, but love always is.

    The crazy thing is that when my wife and I have more kids this will happen all over again. As we all know we cannot give part of our heart to someone…it is all or nothing. So, if we have 3 kids, each one of them will have my heart completely. I can’t comprehend how I can possibly experience that amount of joy, pain, and beauty all at the same time, but that is what Grace is for.

    If it feels like this while she is 1 year old I might just die when she is going out to the movies, is hanging out with friends, or—oh dear, God—when she goes out on her first date!

    It is beautiful and excruciatingly frightening, but love always is.

  • Beauty and the Beast

    photo

    My daughter Claire has a really cool relationship with our dog. I guess most kids do but since this is my first experience with the whole canine, Homo Sapien relationship it is neat to experience.

    Rocky is a mutt that has ¼ Pit bull, ¼ Boxer and ½ of what we think is Rhodesian Ridgeback. A pretty unique mix if you ask me. When we first got Rocky he was all about cuddling with you and being playful. He is almost 5 and is still the same but 70lbs bigger.

    We were not sure about whether or not the dog-baby relationship would work out. Growing up I never had a dog and I had heard that dogs could get jealous and sometimes attack children because they felt threatened. When we brought Claire home the first day we did the whole “introducing” thing where Rocky got to smell her and see there was a new favorite in town. Rocky was curious about her but never got territorial or jealous.

    Fast forward a year later and you will find Claire rolling on top of Rocky trying to take his dog toys. Rocky will let her take it out of his mouth and then gently, get it back from her. Rocky will sit patiently by Claire’s high chair as she eats, because he knows she will toss him a scrap or two. There are benefits to this relationship on both sides. It is amazing to see that Rocky recognizes that she is fragile and that he cannot play with her the way he does with other dogs, my wife or I. Somehow this beast knows that our little beauty is to be treated with the upmost care. For example, a few months back I heard Rocky give a loud yelp. When I went into the room he was in I found him still as stone with my daughters hand in his mouth. Claire had discovered his tongue and wanted to keep it for herself. Rocky didn’t bite or do anything aggressive he just waited for her to release it and then went to the other side of the room. I guess he needed a time out after that.

    There are the occasional moments when Rocky will run past her and knock her to the ground by accident, or have his iron rod tail hit her upside the head. His tail really hurts when it gets you. For the most part he is a really good dog and knows how to act with Claire. However, I’m not just going to leave her alone with him. Rocky might be a great family dog, but he is still an irrational animal and you never know what could happen.

    Still Rocky surprises me.

    There have also been moments when people come over and Rocky gets between them and Claire until we give him the okay. Rocky’s instincts seem to tell him that this little one needs to be protected and I appreciate that.

  • Nails

    Hands and feet

    One of the more challenging things I do with Claire is trimming her finger and toenails. I remember the first time I did it. It was traumatic—for me. I had the clippers out and was able to get a few fingernails in a half hour. I was so scared I would take a chunk of her finger! I didn’t take a whole finger, but unfortunately I got a little bit of skin and it bled. Man talk about feeling like a bad father.

    At 10 months old trimming her nails isn’t a traumatic experience anymore, but it is still challenging. I find myself giving her shinny things to look and hold with one hand, while I try and trim her nails with the other. It is a bit rough to say the least. Claire is able to twist, turn and yank her limbs away all while screaming at the top of her lungs. I guess this is why surgeons have anesthesia.

    A few days ago we were at it again (I swear they grow overnight). Claire fought like a mad woman. I would try to calm her with monkey noises (one of her favorite sounds), handing her a tiny flash light we keep by her crib, and finally by trying to reason with her. The monkey sound was the only slightly successful tactic. At one point I pinned her down and tried overpowering her, but quickly realized that this would only lead to more trouble.

    Force never works.

    As I stood frustrated over Claire, clipper in one hand and pinning her with the other I came to the realization that Claire’s attempts to keep me from trimming her nails is something I do…with God.

    God is constantly speaking to us—even to those of us who believe He isn’t there. God is constantly trying to steer us towards Him and all that is good. God does all He can to help us to see that what He has to offer is what we need. I’m sure God has His own monkey noises for us; shinny things to attract our attention and heaven forbid He would try to reason with us. I know I fight Him just as much as Claire fights nail trimming.  Claire’s nails must be trimmed so she doesn’t hurt herself, but she will fight it. There are things in my life that must be “trimmed” yet I fight it.  I kick and scream and in the end the only thing I’ve done is cut myself with my own nails.

    I often wonder how incredibly frustrating it must be to be God. To have a bunch of whinny, difficult and crazy children that reject every good and perfect thing He offers. It must be exhausting and infuriating. As I think these things Claire smiles as she lies pinned down by my hand.  I smile back and realize that even in Claire’s fighting and whining I love her beyond her fighting me. I know this is a lesson for me. In all my fighting, whining and rebellion God still loves me.

     

  • It’s My Fault

    PointingFinger
    I have been wanting to write a post like this in the last few weeks and then I read this post from a fellow blogger named Matthew Warner. He says it way better than I could. Enjoy! Here is a link to his awesome blog: The Radical Life.

    Being a father is a radical responsibility. One that’s been neutered of its uniqueness and weight and reduced to a mere luxury of the human economy. Well, we may have produced an economy of hard working men (and women), but we’ve also enabled a generation of slacker dads. Even the “good dads” are slackers. And I’m intent on not being one of them.

    If my family is not praying enough or doesn’t know how to pray together, it’s my fault.

    If my family lacks direction and inspiration and vision, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know what generosity and selflessness look like, it’s my fault.

    If my children do not know God, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know what a hard working, faithful, loving, disciplined, kind, holy, gentle, patient, strong man looks like, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t feel secure about who they are, it’s my fault.

    If my son doesn’t know how to be a real man, it’s my fault.

    If my daughter doesn’t know how she’s supposed to be treated, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know what it feels like to be loved and what real, sacrificial love looks like, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know what forgiveness and mercy look like, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know how to respect authority, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know that the hard stuff in life is the stuff most worth doing, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know to pursue truth over comfort and faithfulness over success, it’s my fault.

    If my children don’t know what humility and honesty look like, it’s my fault.

    If my house does not serve the Lord, it’s my fault.

    If I, as their father, don’t do these things, who will? Who will? If it’s not my responsibility, whose is it? My wife has unique responsibilities of her own and many of these others we fulfill together. But ultimately, in my family, if these things don’t happen, it’s my fault.

  • This World

    this world

    In the Christian Sacred Scriptures and Sacred Tradition there are two ways that the world is referred to. First, as Gods creation that He gave to humanity as their place to dwell, and be stewards of. In this sense the world is good and part of Gods plan. In the second sense the world is referred to as an active, aggressive system of structures, values, principles and relationships that are evil and opposed to God and His people. In this negative sense we are not speaking of the physical earth itself, instead, it is the spirit or culture of the world.

    The last few weeks I have seen things online, read articles, etc. that have made my heart heavy. Whether it’s some of the things from the 2014 Grammy’s or something as simple as what I see in commercials or Facebook. I find myself wondering why is this world so messed up? I don’t mean like natural disasters messed up. I’m talking about the complete and total lack of morality and doing good. The lack of striving for virtue and those things that are righteous and holy. It seems like all we see is the complete opposite of virtue. That everything the world tells us to strive for is directly opposed to holiness. It’s sickening.

    I recently heard someone say that they don’t ever want to have kids, because the world is so corrupt. Can you really argue with that? It is corrupt. It is aggressively corrupt. Yet, not having kids because of the potential that this world will devour them and turn them into another cog in the corruption wheel doesn’t seem right. You can’t really pack up and go into the wilderness to flea the world either.

    I sit here thinking of my next thought. As I do this I stare at my daughter in her innocence, waving and smiling at me. All that is pure and beautiful is in my daughter, untouched by the spirit of this world. Claire is a manifestation of Gods love and grace in a 23lb package.

    However, will the spirit of this world eventually devour her?

    Will Claire become part of this second way of understanding the world? Will she become another tainted person who falls to the lies of the world and goes against Gods way? I hope not. I think that my wife and I are doing everything we can to make sure that Claire is a virtuous, holy woman. We surround ourselves with people that try to live virtuous, moral lives. This is something that I think is at the heart of many parents’ desires for their children. I wrote about my desire for Claire to be a Saint in one of my original blog posts. Yet in all we do, say and show to her the world has a million more ways of conveying its immoral garbage.

    It is a bit overwhelming.

    I guess that it is easy to despair by how aggressive this world is in trying to derail all of us—especially when we think of our children. Yet in those same Sacred Scriptures and Sacred Traditions I referred to above we have stories of men and women who lived contagious examples of morality, virtue and holiness. Men and women who stood firm against this aggressive system of structures, values and principles and overcame it by Gods grace. Men and women who inspired others to “wake up” so to speak from the worlds grasp and seek the good.

    Maybe you and I are supposed to be those people today? Maybe our kids are the new saints to combat the world’s loss of virtue and morality? I am deeply afraid of what the spirit and culture of this world could do to my daughter, but I am also excited at the thought of what my daughter could do for this world.  God raises up saints through every generation, men and women who are beacons of light in a dark and desolate land. I pray that our children may be these beacons, that with the grace of God they can reveal all that is true and beautiful, all that is holy and all that is virtuous.

  • The Cardboard Box Phenomenon

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    A few friends that have kids have shared the following experience with me and are just as perplexed as I am.

    It seems that after hundreds of dollars were spent on toys for their children’s Christmas the kids don’t really care much for them. Sure it lights up and speaks French, English and Spanish but it isn’t that exciting. After a few minutes of playing with said toy these kids say, “au revoir” and move on. The interesting thing—hence why we are so perplexed—is what they are moving on to.

    The cardboard box.

    The cardboard box that the really cool rocking horse with flames on its side came from, or the cardboard box that the scooter that speaks, French, English and Spanish came from.

    It’s a cardboard box…

    My own daughter has done this several times. We have a box that is big enough for her to climb into and that’s exactly what she does. Claire plays in this box, laughs, falls out of it and I’m sure she uses it as her own personal bathroom.

    I remember playing with my little brother when we were kids in our own boxes. We were astronauts, racecar drivers, and a million other things. I remember coloring with crayons on the outside to personalize them. I’ve seen that some folks are starting to capitalize on this box phenomenon by providing kids with premade boxes to suit their imagination. See here for the simpler house model.

    I can’t help but marvel at the simplicity of my daughter playing in this box. It’s a cardboard box, but I guess it is so much more than that. To me it is a reminder that I need to use my imagination more. That having fancy things do not really make me happier—some times they make things more complicated!

    I am envious (in a good way) at the manner in which my daughter can find joy in such a simple thing as a cardboard box. Maybe I’m putting too much into this thought, but what has happen to us adults that a cardboard box isn’t enough anymore? When was the last time we found joy in something so simple?

    It is something worth pondering. At least I think.