“For unflagging interest and enjoyment, a household of children, if things go reasonably well, certainly makes all other forms of success and achievement lose their importance by comparison.” Theodore Roosevelt
“There is no such thing as a perfect parent so just be a real one.” Sue Atkins
As I take time to think about Father's Day this year, I cannot help but think about my relationship with my own father. He passed away in 2017. His death was a catalyst to thinking about my own role as a father in the lives of my own children. What I came to realize was that during my younger years, I spent far too much time focusing on the perceived shortcomings of my father rather than on the tremendous blessing he was to my life.
Being a firstborn, I was naturally the ‘practice’ child. You know, the child that has the ‘privilege’ of being the one the parents practice learning how to be parents to in the first place. From my perspective, my father was a stern disciplinarian who never spoke the words ‘I love you' to me until I was well into adulthood. In other words, I focused on the negative aspects of my father rather than on the positive.
That all came to an abrupt stop the moment I became a parent myself. I had always expected my dad to be like the Lloyd Bridges character Mike Nelson from the TV show Sea Hunt; to be like Captain James Tiberius Kirk from the USS enterprise on Star Trek; to be like Ward Cleaver from Leave It To Beaver; to be like Ben Cartwright from the TV show Bonanza; to be like Mike Brady from the Brady Bunch. I expected my dad to be compassionate, heroic, selfless, present, sensitive to my emotional needs, and always available and ready to talk with me about my inner thoughts and deepest feelings. I expected him to be, well, perfect. The only problem is, to this very day, I have yet to meet the perfect parent.
As I said, the moment I became a dad myself, was the moment I began seeing my dad in a whole new light. My dad was heroic. My dad was selfless. My dad was sensitive to my emotional needs in the best way he knew how. My dad was present. What he was not was…he was not me.
I realized I had expected my dad to think like me and to express feelings like me and to see the world through the filter of my way of thinking. That raised so many questions in my mind about my dad that it caused me to pursue a deeper relationship with him. Up to that point, our relationship I felt was, at best, surface and, at worst, nonexistent. Curiosity got the best of me and caused me to rally my courage enough to invite him on a road trip with me.
On that trip I was able to ask him so many questions that I had always been afraid to ask. I asked him why he never talked with me about sex when I was a young boy. I asked him why he got up and walked out of the room when, as a young boy, I asked him about masturbation and whether it was good or bad. I asked him why he never taught me to shave. You get the idea. I asked him about everything from what it meant to be a man to why he believed what he believed about God. And then I got to the big question. “Dad. Why did you never tell me you loved me? Why did you never say those words to me?”
His answer was both shocking and stunningly healing. Both melancholy and joyfully eye-opening. And it proved to be so powerful it actually helped answer all the questions I had ever had about my relationship with him. His answer? “My dad never told me he loved me, so I didn't know how to tell you.”
Suddenly my mind became flooded with the truth and reality that my dad had been the best dad I could possibly have hoped for. He loved my mother. He was faithful to God. He worked many jobs through the years just to provide for me and my brothers. He was always in my corner. It was my dad who encouraged me to take the steps of faith it took for me to share my story and my music with the world. In fact, he actually worked for me for the last 25 years of his life. His honesty with me as he answered that elephant-in-the-room-sized question gave me a whole new perspective on just how great a man he was. And just how great a father he was to me and my brothers.
Raising children is hard. It is often thankless. It makes one realize their own shortcomings very quickly and, in turn, quite often makes a parent overcompensate in so many different ways and on so many different levels. It caused me to work hard at being the best dad possible for my children, but it has also caused me to question whether or not I was even a good dad to my children. It has caused me sleepless nights on more than one occasion wondering whether or not my children perceived me as being emotionally present in their lives. It has caused me to wonder how much damage I did to their souls. I worked at being the fun dad but now, in my old age, wonder if I was a loving, affirming, encouraging, or even an adequate or effective dad.
Melinda and I were blessed with nine of the most amazing human beings I have ever had the privilege of knowing. They stay in constant contact with one another and absolutely enjoy being together. They are the most creative people I know. They own their own issues and are the most compassionate, caring, sensitive people I know. They readily share their opinions, yet do not allow their differences of opinion to dampen their love for one another. They are the hardest working people I know. They are adventurous and daring and creative and inventive and genuinely likable and fun to be around. I love my children and I am so proud of each and every one of them.
With several of my children I have had conversations much like that conversation I had with my dad so many years ago now. It actually brings me joy and cleanses my soul when one of my children feels confident enough in our love for one another to ask me the hard questions about why I responded or reacted or behaved in certain ways that caused them hurt when they were younger and still in the home.
My children and I do not all agree on every matter of life. We do not all agree on the best TV shows or share the same tastes in movies and entertainment. We do not cheer for the same team in the NBA or NFL or the NCAA Final Four. But one thing we do share in common is this: we do not need to agree with one another, but we do choose to love one another - no matter what. I honestly believe that has been made possible because of their mother, my wife Melinda, who is the emotional and spiritual life-blood of communication to our family.
I know I was not the perfect father. My hope is, as my children read this, they would be assured of my love regardless of what they need regarding the answers to their own questions just as I did with my dad. And I want them to know that as long as I have breath, they have access to my heart and my entire being and that they will be loved regardless of how difficult or disheartening their questions for me might be. I want to be a safe place for them to find healing for any wounds I may have brought into their lives.
To my children and to my grandchildren: there is nothing you can say to me that would in any way cause me to love you less than with my entire being. I would gladly lay down my life for any one of you. I honestly would. Because of you, I consider myself to be the most blessed man on earth…
Dad
Psalm 127:3-5
Behold, children are a gift of the LORD,
The fruit of the womb is a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are the children of one's youth.
Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them;
They will not be ashamed
When they speak with their enemies in the gate.
PS Now, I have determined to work at being the best grandfather possible to my grandchildren for as long as I have breath…
Grandchildren are the crown of the old,
And the glory of sons is their fathers.
Proverbs 17:6 NASB
I have been young and now I am old,
Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken
Or his descendants begging for bread.
Psalm 37:25 NASB