One of the wonderful things about the blogosphere is that, once in a while, you happen upon a blogger who you really resonate with. For me, the blog “Lisanotes” has been hitting all the right chords with me. Recently, she had a book review that I found unexpectedly useful.
The problem has been months—no, years!—in the making. My 10 year old son has had more than his share of difficulty in understanding his sisters. Disagreements and frustrations over daily occurrences, like my 13 year-old daughter’s use of the computer, have boiled into huge conflicts. Lisa’s review of a book titled, Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Spaghetti, which I had skimmed over, came to my mind. After reading the review, I sat down with my son and explained the concept to him. I will let my son take it from here.
If I were a food I’d be a Waffle. I’d be a Waffle because it describes how a male’s brain works and processes things. A Waffle has squares in it (as always), so does a males brain (supposedly). Each box represents a thing that a male is doing or thinking about at one time. Males think differently than females. They focus on one thing at one time. Females don’t think or do one thing at one time, they think or do it all at once. Therefore, females are like spaghetti because their minds keep on thinking about everything at once. They keep on following the spaghetti line through all the sauce and other noodles. Then they run out of noodle, and then their minds jump to another noodle that leads them to another, and another, and another, and another and another and so on and so forth. That is how I think that the male and female minds work, and that is why, if I were a food, I would want to be a Waffle.
(p.s. My Dad explained this to me, which really helped understand my mom and my sisters.)
Like a lot of boys, my son understands word pictures. Until this moment, it was really hard for him to understand the differences God has built into women. Now, instead of him wishing that girls were more like boys, which is something every 10 year old boy seems to struggle with, he allows his sisters the freedom to be who they are. The difference inside our house is night and day! I can hardly believe what a difference it has made. Instead of berating his little sister for leaving a mess somewhere, he reminds her that she should help clean up. His humor, his bright smile, his very soul seems sweeter and more mature. I have the feeling that I just did my future daughter-in-law—whoever she may be—a huge favor.
I told you this post will make you hungry. Let's go to IHOP and talk it over.
I'm getting ready for CHEC for the next three days, but before I get so motivated my socks pop off, I want to nail something down first.
Todd Wilson is a wonderful dad and support to homeschoolers everywhere. I've pushed him on this blog many times. Today he sent out a Familyman e-mail to his list. A key portion says,
As I talked with [a group of dads] about their teenagers who were giving them fits, their wives who didn’t seem to think like them, and the deceptively deadly pull of success that beckons to them everyday, I saw tiredness in their eyes and heard emotion in their voices.
I listened to them and nodded in understanding until they finished. Then in a gentle but firm voice I said, “Man, I know exactly how you feel, but...you ‘da dad. You may feel like giving up, but your family is counting on you. You can’t give up on them. Get back in there, because although they may say harsh things...they still need you.”
They sighed, stiffened their chins in determination, and nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Todd,” they said. “Thanks for the reminder.” And then they walked away, ready to give it another shot.
Normally, I can't shut up about how good Todd is, but this time, I think he's missed the mark.
While Christ helps us be better fathers, the goal of Christianity is not to be the best parent in the world. We can't soldier on endlessly like thirsty men looking for an oasis. There comes a time when you can't take that next step, when you can't be the father you are called to be. What happens then?
The old saying goes, "God never gives us more than we can handle." I've even said it, like recently. But it's wrong! If it were true, how would we ever turn to God for help? He should--and does--give us more than we can handle. We need to find the end of ourselves so that God can be our ultimate source. We need the oasis to come to us, to offer us hope and aid in our fight. God must be that source. Our wives and families can't provide what we need. Our other relationships can't help either. The one place we can go is the one place we must go. We have a spirit of sonsWhile Christ helps us be better fathers, the goal of Christianity is not to be the best parent in the world. We can't soldier on endlessly like thirsty men looking for an oasis. There comes a time when you can't take that next step, when you can't be the father you are called to be. What happens then?hip by which we cry "Abba! Father! Daddy!"
How much of American Christianity is infused with the Invictus Success Syndrome? It's the version of Christianity that shows up in 30-minute, pyramid-shaped infomercials on some cable channel late at night. It's the one where you try harder and pursue success as an American dad. You are the captain of the ship and if you're exhausted and not successful, you're doing something wrong. I'm sorry, Todd, but how many men left that meeting nodding their heads at the failures they feel they've become?
Why not let God define what a successful father looks like? Instead of soldiering on, we should surrender all to His vision for us. Instead of getting back in there, we need to get back to Abba and let Him love us so that we can love them. By reaching out to the Father, we find that He is there supporting us, giving us what we need, so we can give them what they need. When we are confronted by the things we can't control, like the hearts and minds of our children, we need to know that God's grace is sufficient for us, because His power is made perfect in our weakness.
One of my peers once said that there is no creature on the planet that is more miserable, angry, or disconsolate than a Christian who has violated their conscience. I can't help but agree. All day long, I've been agitated, upset and inconsolable. Nothing has brought me the peace I normally have. Why? What did I do?
I borrowed a game.
That's right. Horror of horrors, I asked a friend if I could borrow a game, he agreed, and I took it home last night. The game is a spoof on adventure games and it's hilarious, but it's also full of raunch, double-meanings, and dark humor.
Only last week, I felt the Holy Spirit rebuke me for indulging the darker side of my humor, which is two steps removed from cynicism, anarchy and despair. It's the kind of humor that surfaces in the joke that goes, "When I die, I want to go peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming in terror like his passengers." Dark humor is like pepper or spice. A little bit adds flavor and dimension to life. Any more of it overpowers everything it touches.
The double-meanings and the raunchy stuff adds fuel to the fire. I try to ignore the stuff and just move on with the game, but that's like trying to ignore a big, flashing neon sign. I'm not fooling anyone but myself if I play the game and think it can't touch me. The worst part is trying to hide it from my son. If I'm keeping secrets like that from anyone in my family, something's wrong. Worse, young eyes see and hear more than we realize. Nope, that game's going back to it's owner and my son is getting an apology from me. I'm trusting he will learn not just from my successes, but also my failures.
Yesterday evening, I made a mistake. I flat out sinned. I let my anger about my disability boil over and I yelled at my 10 year-old son, who didn't feel like helping out with an extra chore before bed. Whatever he did, he did not deserve the angry words that I let out of my mouth. The moment they were out, I wanted them back. Watching my brave boy fighting the tears, my anger crumbled and I could see that I had just wounded my son's heart. Anything else quickly faded away as I realized that I must immediately reverse course and begin to rebuild my connection to my son.
I reached out by saying, "Oh son, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that." That was a beginning, but he needed much more. "What I said was wrong. That's not my heart towards you! I love you and I treasure you!" I said. Addressing the spiritual component, I prayed in repentance, "God, please forgive me for hurting your son," --he and I are both kid brothers of Jesus Christ-- "and for wounding his heart. Please bring healing and help me not to do that again." Hot tears flowed and slowly we were on the mend.
This is all to say that I am another human failing and in need of a "Successor," and that any wisdom I've shown is God working through me, not me being some kind of an uber-dad. The above also tempers the following, which is an open letter to my son that I read to him about a week ago. Dads, please feel free to take this letter as a basis for your own to pass on to your sons and daughters.*
Dear [son],
Every day of my time with you, I have tried to live my life as an example of the man I hope you will be someday. While one letter won’t make a huge difference in this, I hope it does pass on some of the stuff I might have missed saying to you, some of the things we just don’t talk about from day to day. In this letter, I hope to go over the things I’ve learned through experience, and maybe some of the stuff I knew but didn’t fully realize how important that stuff really was.
For example, I didn’t realize that a person’s life is shaped by the little choices they make every day as much as it is by the big decisions like what you will do for a career, where you will live, and so on. The little choices that you make, the mundane and overlooked ones, such as what you’ll have for lunch today, what you’ll buy, or how you treat your friend, will have a cumulative effect, one so powerful that it can limit or even eliminate your options in a big decision you want to make.
Speaking of big decisions, there is none greater than who you will marry. You can be successful in every other area of your life, and it can all be poisoned by a difficult marriage. How will you know who to marry? We will go over a lot of that together in the next few years, as well as making you ready for your future wife. However, I know of one test that will help you know for sure if she is the one. The people who know you best, the people who can be honest, will know if she is the one for you. These people will have known you for several years and they will need to get to know her. Trust their advice! On the other hand, if you don’t have any of these people in your life, maybe you are too detached to be thinking about getting married. If that’s the case, it’s better to slow things down, put down some roots, and start rebuilding friendships you can rely on.
I’ve told you often that relationships are what life is all about. If your relationships are good, then everything else in your life can go wrong, and you will still be okay. Having the right people on your team truly is make-or-break. Here are some good qualities to find in friends: wisdom, honesty, loyalty, godliness, graciousness, patience, and compassion. A lot of these are found in 1 Corinthians 13. If God blesses you, you may have maybe three or four friends over your lifetime that embody all of these traits. Hold onto them! If you’re having trouble finding friends like this, make sure you are already showing these traits in your own life. Be a friend to gain a friend. It’s true that “birds of a feather flock together,” and people will be naturally attracted to others with the same traits.
Be careful about friendships with the opposite sex. I am not saying that you shouldn’t have them, but I am saying they require extra care. What may exist in your mind as a perfectly legitimate friendship may be entirely different on her side. Do not be careless with other people’s hearts.
Perhaps the biggest risk I have taken in raising you is that I have intentionally avoided things which might have scarred or put blisters and calluses on your heart. Because of that, I have some specific advice for you. The world runs on rules that, even if we don’t live by them, we have to be mindful of. The first of which is that the material world in which we live functions on money. Everything you see, hear, taste, smell, or feel, everything is related to money. The ground you walk on, the air you breathe, and the food you eat are all for sale. And, they can all be purchased by someone other than you. Everything material has a price tag. Despite all of this, do not let the material things replace the immaterial things, such as love, respect and the human heart.
On your birthday, I was the first to hold you besides the doctors and nurses. I consider that a great honor. When you hold your own child, you will become a father, and there is something mystical, wonderful and miraculous that goes on in your heart that day. It switches from “my wife and I,” to “we.” Your fatherly instincts kick in, and you know you would move heaven and earth if they were in the way of your little child. A father will do anything he can to preserve his child from harm. This instinct is something you must experience to fully understand.
Remember that this world is broken. It was broken more than 5000 years ago. It will still be broken when we die. The only thing that will change all that is the “in the flesh” return of Jesus Christ. Only God can repair all the damage that sin has done to this world. When He does, the only things that we will have left are the relationships around us. The Kingdom of Heaven is all about relationships. Live in that reality!
Son, there will likely be other letters, other times when we will talk, just like we did recently. I want to give you these tools and tricks of the trade of Fatherhood, just like I would hand you my tool box someday and let you go out into the world. Put these things in your own children’s toolboxes, and you could be as happy and content as I am today.
Finally, Son, if it’s not apparent by now, I want you to know that I truly love you as my son. There is nothing you can do to change that fact, and I promise I will continue to love you as long as I live and for eternity. You are my son, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.
Sincerely,
Your Dad
There it is. That's my open letter. I promised it over a month ago and yes! I actually delivered! Thanks, God.
This post is incredibly long, but let me close out with this. If there are any fathers (or sons) who want prayer for their relationship to be healed or restored, please leave a comment. I know that there are others with me on this blog who would be willing to pray for you.
Steve
*Please note that this offer does not release rights to the letter, in whole or in part, for any other kind of redistribution including publication. All copyrights still apply.
A friend of mine sent me the following quote. It's a priest responding to a complaining father out of the book Power to the People by Laura Ingraham.
"The time you spend with your children may prevent you from having the promotion you've always wanted, may force you to sacrifice friendships and hobbies that you wanted to pursue, and may even place a strain on your marriage. But this is what you must do. You are their father and the relationship you have with these children will affect them for the rest of their lives."
We all do it. We forget the size of the shadow we cast, and who it falls on. As fathers, our actions affect so much more than just ourselves. It ripples down to our children and our grandchildren. It's not just a single act for good or ill. It's a series, a pattern we imbue on our children. We can't just show up at graduation and say, "I'm here. Good job, son." It's being there, day after long and weary day, for each of our children. Fatherhood is less quality time and more quantity time with quality thrown it from time to time. Friendships, hobbies, and career goals die a quiet death as fathers decide that they will make time for their children. It is a noble calling to be a father, and it is worth everything you put in.
"I had big dreams when I was a child. But without my dad, those dreams might not have come true. He brought stability to my life. He made my world a safe place in which to think and to learn. And though not every boy may aspire to become a football coach, every father can aspire to become the dad of his child's dreams. But to make that a reality, fathers must choose daily to work toward that goal."
— Super Bowl Champion Pittsburgh Steelers coach Mike Tomlin
The Canadian Pacific Railroad added a nice touch to the services and whoever approved the "Nathaniel" special to be parked for the funeral did a wonderful and special thing for the family. It lets them remember their boy not for his death in a storm, but for his life and his loves.
One of the better "homeschool dads" out there is Todd Wilson. He has a ministry called Familyman Ministries where he goes out on the road and encourages families at homeschool conferences and conventions. We met Todd a few years ago when he came out to Colorado to do the Christian Home Educators of Colorado (CHEC) state conference. His heart is for dads and moms and how to lead a family through homeschooling and family discipleship.
He has a regular e-mail he sends out called the Familyman Weekly. I have his ongoing permission to reprint his latest edition. You may find that in the days of $4 gallons of gas, $50 doesn't even fill the tank of an SUV or even a humble minivan. Well, $50 does buy something better, as you'll see in his message below.
Hey Dad,
Just in case you didn’t know this about me, I’m cheap---although not as bad as Ebenezer Scrooge. Now with that said, let me tell you a recent story about how I overcame my natural cheap tendencies to love my daughter extravagantly.
It all happened while we were enjoying a much needed rest from life on the road in Florida. Surrounded by thousands of pale, pasty-skinned tourists, we noticed several princessy-looking girls all dolled up with sparkling hair and pixie dust.
My boys hardly took notice, but all the women folk in my family awed and ooed. I could only imagine how much it cost, and later found out that your basic princess hairdo/makeover cost about $50. FIFTY BUCKS!!!!!
As the days ticked by and we continued to see more walking princess hairdo billboards, a growing prodding began to whisper in my heart, “Katherine would love that.”
I know, but it costs fifty bucks, I inwardly argued! And it won’t even last two days.
But the feeling wouldn’t go away and had been working on my wife as well, because on the last night we both looked at each other and said, “What do you think about doing the princess makeover for Katherine?”
Then my wife added, “This could be the last year that she’ll want to. Next year she might feel too old.”
Sold.
That night we surprised our daughter with the princess treatment. She was overwhelmingly grateful, and as she walked towards me with sparkles in her hair, she beamed.
“Thank you soooo much, Dad,” she said as she hugged her old man.
“You look beautiful, Katherine,” I whispered.
Well, I was wrong. The hairdo lasted 4 days, and Katherine loved every minute of it…and so did I.
You know, Dad, the makeover cost less than a seventh of a tank of fuel for the RV, which barely lasts two days. But my daughter will always remember the night she got the princess hairdo and how she felt loved by her mom and dad.
I’m telling you, Dad, loving someone extravagantly doesn’t have to cost $50. One dad wrote me and told how he brought home candy bars to everyone in his family as a surprise. Same result.
It’s not about spending money though; it’s about using your time, money, or energy to show love extravagantly from time to time. It’s about sleeping out in the backyard, building a tree fort, or taking a much promised road trip. It’s all about doing it TODAY, because tomorrow may be too late.
So Dad, no excuses---just do it!
You ‘da dad,
Todd
PS – To see my beautiful daughter and her princess makeover along with a photo of me after a repair to a roof vent in a downpour, go to http://www.familymanweb.com/rvblog
Spend money? Maybe. Spend time and energy? You bet! Girls want to know if they're pretty in their father's eyes, and I believe that if dad doesn't effectively communicate that to his daughters, they will spend a good part of their "flower years" trying to find the love, admiration and esteem from other men who may not care one whit about their hearts or their minds. Go out there and tell your daughters you love them. Tell them before their flower fades and their heart closes forever. Dad, this father's day, be a father and call your children to your heart. Call them home. It's what daddies do.
This last week with the court decision affecting our finances has been hard, but the worst came last night. My parents and I are very close and they come over every couple of weeks to check up on us, help me take care of the house, play with their grandkids and play cards with my wife and I. We have a 7-year string of Reno Rummy games that just won't quit. Last night was probably around our 200th game. We're at the table playing and my dad casually asked, "So, when are you going to start listing the house for sale?"
Now, my folks know about our situation with the court, but I had assumed that my mom passed on to my dad that my wife and I had prayed repeatedly and we both felt that we couldn't sell the house and remain faithful to God. We believed (still do) that God was going to somehow take care of us. As a result, I never expected the question and it blindsided me. I'd like to say that I articulated what we believed God had told us what he would do, but the casualness and bluntness of the question sent me into a spiritual and intellectual tailspin and, to my shame, all that came out was an R-rated version of "go jump in the lake." Instantly, my dad and I were eyeball-to-eyeball and my dad threatened something until my mom asked him to stop. I backed down and excused myself at the next possible moment.
Not a great moment. In fact, this was perhaps the most distressing moment I can ever remember in my life. As adults, my dad and I are so close and this was like an atom bomb going off between us. Suddenly I was back to 15 going on 25, ready to take him on. This simple exchange had just blown up a perfectly good game of cards and my relationship with my dad was a smoldering ruin.
I went away to my bedroom as the shock of what had just happened began to melt into a boiling froth of anger, disbelief and a seething rage. It was as if all that financial pressure and the sting of my dad's words transformed into some kind of aggression that I had never known before. Additionally, my natural desire to protect and provide for my family, so long denied because of my condition, had twisted into a destructive despair that messed with every thought I had. I was a total mess! Finally, my wife came up and helped talk me down. She explained how my mom was working with my dad and that he wasn't aware of some of the things we had told her. I calmed down a bit and eventually, I went downstairs.
My dad and mom were cleaning up the cards and stuff off the table and I was still not sure what to do as I went to pick up my laptop. I turned to go upstairs when my dad said, "Steve, I'm sorry that--" which was all he got out before I turned and ran into his arms. I locked with him in a big bear hug as I tried to get my apology out between tears and gasps for air. I don't think either of us knew how much our relationship mattered to us. If there's one man on earth whose opinion I value, it's his.
We sat down across from each other and I spelled out my convictions about our circumstances and how strongly I believed in them. I couldn't change them and as I professed what I believed God would do, I felt like everything that I was just was stripped away. My dad explained how he hadn't known about how we felt and how he just concluded that the only option would be selling our house, not realizing that our breaking even is impossible.
After that, we actually got back to playing cards! Things were not as awkward as they could have been, although it wasn't entirely normal. Today, my dad, my son and I went on a short ice fishing trip and after talking on the trip, we still don't totally see eye to eye, but he's agreed to support me in what I believe and help any way he can. To be honest, if we were in each other's shoes, I probably would believe him to be a bit crazy and setting himself up for a disappointment by believing in a miracle. Yes, I am crazy. Yes, I have very little hope of making it out of this situation. But I know God is watching over me. I know He will take care of me and my family. I would surrender this house if I felt that's what He wanted, but I believe He wants us to hang onto this house. I trust Him to know what He's doing.
Please pray for us. I'm scared, but I know my God loves me and will protect me and my family. I trust him with everything, including this.
I have always appreciated Todd Wilson and his wonderful transparency showing how his imperfections still bless his family when he handles it right. A good example is what he sent out by e-mail this morning. Notice too the difference he draws between loving and liking.
Hey Dad,
We didn’t choose the Familyman motto just because it had a good ring; we chose it because it’s the truth: I’m a pretty good dad---except when I’m not.
Yesterday was one of those NOT days for me.
It started out good. We had a somewhat meaningful family devotion time, the kids got started on their chores, and I jumped onto the computer to take care of some Familyman details. It looked to be a good day of fathering.
As I typed away, I heard a rather heated exchanged between two of my children. I didn’t pay much attention until I heard my wife’s voice, a seemingly disrespectful comment, and then a loudly closed door.
Boom! I was on the move. Actually, if I hadn’t blown it, I think it would have ended with an explanation and some fatherly instruction.
Instead, I pushed open my son’s bedroom door, and my son, who was on the other side of the door, pushed back, thinking I was his upset brother. The combined forces slammed my glasses into my eye causing a fair amount of pain---and at the same time detonating a nuclear warhead, causing a combination of Sergeant Carter and Attila the Hun to appear in my place.
I hollered until my son was in tears. But that didn’t stop me; I yelled, ranted, and lectured up a storm.
If it wasn’t for the broken look in my son’s face, I might still be hollering. But the look in his eyes showed me I had blown it big time and the storm in my heart blew out. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized, “You didn’t deserve that.”
I hugged him tight and asked his forgiveness. And you know what? He forgave me.
“Do you know how much I love you?” I asked, excepting him to say, “No, I don’t.”
But instead he said, “Yes.”
Do you know how much I LIKE you?” I asked, assured that he would say, “Not much.”
“Yes, I know,” he said softly.
We hugged some more, and this morning during family devotions I apologized to the entire family for my lousy ‘dad-ing.’
And once again---life is good. And the truth remains: I’m a pretty good dad---except when I’m not.
So dad, maybe you too had a NOT day yesterday or the day before. Let me encourage you to make it right---today. They need you to, and you’ll be glad you did. After all---
You ‘da dad!
Todd
A lot of dads like me draw comfort from Todd. He's got a good heart, and that's one of the best compliments I give to any dad.
Those who know me a bit know that I am a trains guy. I love to see a narrow-gauge, 2-8-2 Mikado with 36,000 pounds of tractive effort working a 4% grade and I start twitching visibly when I see double-headed action with a photo freight or a rotary. If you need me to translate that last sentence, it shows that there is an entirely separate sub-culture I have been a part of as a child and now as an adult. I was ingesting--"reading" doesn't adequately describe it--the most recent issue of Trains Magazine when a letter to the editor caught my attention. It was from two sisters in Montana who had written Trains to thank them and the many people who had consoled them after losing their dad, a well-loved trains guy. They wrote, "Our dad will never be forgotten. We will remember him every time we see a train or a trolley, hear a pipe organ, or see the moon."
Isn't that a wonderful line? It occurred to me that that's how I would likely be remembered someday among my children. That's not a terrible way to be remembered, either.
