Parents are some of the bravest people you will ever meet. Parents take the biggest and most courageous journey by becoming parents. It's a choice, the only time you'll here me use "choice" in reference to becoming a parent.
I used to believe parents were safe, cautious, dull people with little or no personalities or ambition. Parents always said "no" because fun wasn't part of their lives and kept their kids from the real fun in life. I used to believe parents were afraid of life and afraid to LIVE! They were afraid of things that go bump in the night, because no self respecting parent stayed out after 11, or let their kids stay out either.
When I became a parent I found out I was completely wrong.
Parents are the bravest, most courageous people I know. They are men and women who go about their daily lives always thinking of someone else besides themselves. Parents will do this for years, even decades. All in the hope of providing, protecting and caring for their families. They fight day in and day out, keeping their own safe.
A child may look at their parents and falsely believe they look tired and old, even worn out. But I would warn them there in lies the heart of a warrior. Be careful you don't mistake lack of youthful license for obsolescence. You may find that heart aroused, even to take to task an errant child!
A child will not understand nor comprehend a parents heart, words cannot convey a love, dedication or devotion so deep they would forfeit their life for their child. They display that love daily by picking themselves up and marching to their self appointed duty. I didn't fully comprehend that duty initially, but I didn't run from it when it slowly revealed itself as time went by. There were times when I wanted a break but I would look at my kids and recommit myself. Parenting is a choice, not purely an emotion. Parents aren't perfect, that's evident in themselves and their children. But we aren't willing to accept less for our families and continue to strive forward into the breech.
Parents are human, easily wounded by those they love the most. A word or look from a child can cut quicker and deeper than any wound from everyday life. That is the crux of parenting. Often I think of the wounds I inflicted on my parents, it shames me. My parents were gracious and forgiving, to a fault. Too often I've fallen short on that account. I have learned that as time passes by, forgiveness is far more powerful than "a teachable moment".
Parents are never brilliant to their own children, but are often to other children. There were times I wanted different parents. But they were exactly what I needed. This painful truth reveals more about the misunderstanding and general misconception children have than their own parent's skills.
Given everything, would I do it all over again knowing what I know now? Yes. Of course that's the stereotypical question and answer. I believe the more important question is will I continue? Emphatically, yes. True, once a parent always a parent, but I often see some get fed up and check out. I know that temptation will always be there, but I made the choice to become a parent and I will see this through.
That brings me to today, Father's Day. I have a good father. Good in the sense he is genuine in his choices, willing to make a decision he feels best affects us all rather than play favorites. I've seen him act that way toward so many others as a Pastor over the years. As a child I was jealous at times, "Why is he treating them better than us!?". In truth he was trying his best to fill a gap as was often the case. I realized later, especially as a father myself, I was blessed having him all the time.
Dad is also fiercely proud of his family. He may not always convey that in words but he's usually the action behind us getting together on a regular basis. And, he and mom will drive across the country to see us kids and the grand kids. That is literally across the country since all four of his children live in different states.
And that finally brings it to me. I know I was, maybe still, am a challenging child. I didn't hear as much from dad, again he was never one to berate us or scold excessively. But I could see it in his manner and hear it in the silence. I understand now that he probably didn't know what to say or was afraid if he said too much I would bolt. That silence was deafening. It's not the proudest time in my life.
My dad will turn 82 in July and he's still my dad. Nothing more and nothing less, plain and simple. And he chooses to be a Father every day. I can't speak for my siblings, but I am grateful.
And that is Good.
I'm blessed. He's the bravest man I know.
I'm blessed. He's the bravest man I know.
