Are You There? - Part 2

The dad I looked up to was my Uncle Virgil. He married my mom’s sister and they had a son just eight months before I was born. My cousin Chuck and I grew up like brothers even though we lived two states away from each other. We’d only see each other a couple times a year but we wrote letters back and forth all the time (no such thing as cell phones or computers back then). When I was in fifth grade Uncle Virgil and his family were going on a fishing trip and they asked if I could go along. They were passing right through the town where we lived on their way to the lake. It was one of the best weeks of my life. I’ve fished a lot in my life so it wasn’t the fishing that made the trip memorable. It was spending time with a real dad. Uncle Virgil isn’t the perfect dad but he was always around. On that trip he was with us on the lake, played games with us in the cabin at night and told stories. Uncle Virgil always has a story to tell.

The funniest thing that happened on that trip was when Uncle Virgil went out to the outhouse (it was a rustic retreat) one night and he dropped his cigarette lighter into the pit. To this day I don’t know how he pulled that off, but that lighter must have been something special because he came back for a flashlight and went in after it! It makes me laugh to this day.

Uncle Virgil was real and he spent time with his son. He played ball with Chuck. He coached him in baseball and football. He drove Chuck on his paper route when the weather was bad. You get the idea. He was around. I spent a lot of years jealous of Chuck.

Are You There

Jared writes...

My friend Geoffrey’s dad is Slick. I don’t mean he’s slick in the old school way of talking…it’s actually his name, nickname, really. When my mom was between boyfriends for a time we lived with her parents. Slick and his family lived next door. Geoffrey and I got be good friends. One of the coolest things about our friendship is that Slick always thought to include me in stuff. “Hey, Jared,” he’d say, “how ‘bout goin’ with us to Red Feather for the weekend?”

Those times I spent with Geoffrey and Slick were some of the best times I’ve ever had. Not that what we were doing was so special, but that I was hanging out with a Dad, a real, live Dad. I think that’s what made it so memorable. Slick plays in a band and he’s a big scruffy lookin’ dude. Not your typical dad type, I guess, but he’s probably one of the best dad’s I ever met. And what made him one of the best dads is that he just hung out with Geoffrey and me. It was like a privilege to be invited into the time they spent together. It’s something I never got from my dad.

Practice, Practice, Practice

Consider this…

• Have you told your children the history and meaning of their names? If not, do it today and find ways to tell the story on a regular basis.

• Sit down and write a comprehensive list of the words you use to describe your children, words spoken to your children and to others. If that list contains more negative words than positive, change it. Go so far as to eliminate all negative descriptions of your children as people.

• Consider the non-verbal messages that serve as labels. Are you treating your children in such a way that they might consider themselves a burden, a nuisance, or unwanted?

• Take an honest, hard look at labels you’ve already attached to your children. This may mean asking your wife and others what labels they’ve seen you use. As you discover the negative labels you’ve applied, begin the process of removing those and putting new ones on. This may include the humbling process of admitting your mistakes and asking your children to forgive you.

• When you change the labels you use be sure to back it up with actions that are consistent.

• Even if your children are now adults you can bring healing by practicing these fathering skills. It’s never too late to bring positive change.

The Tatooed Man - A Cautionary Tale

I have one final cautionary tale that God brought to me awhile ago. Since committing to write this book my radar has been particularly tuned to father stuff. One weekend Elizabeth and I had the chance to visit our daughter at college. She worked part time at a steak house chain and, I have to say, she has wonderful people skills and lights up a room so she’s a natural when it comes to serving tables. Especially at a restaurant that has a playful atmosphere. Anyway, the place was packed and since I’d just dropped in unannounced after a long drive she found me a seat at the bar and went off to tend to her tables. A few minutes later a young man accompanied by an older couple took the seats immediately to my left.

At this point I confess that after catching a few snippets of his conversation I engaged in active eavesdropping. The couple I assumed were his parents were obviously not. Over the course of a few minutes he told them about his recent birthday celebration. He enjoyed it but was disappointed that he didn’t get to continue the tradition of the past few years. Apparently, in previous years his birthday treat was a visit to a local strip club with his buddies where he got the pleasure of a birthday picture with the strippers. It seemed a sad and inappropriate story to me, but he was telling it with great enthusiasm. He went on to mention his mother and the man she was currently living with. That’s when my “father influence” radar went off. He made some negative comments about the man his mother was with and I couldn’t tell if they were married or just living together. I could tell he didn’t care for the man and he made no comment about his father.

He was remarkably transparent about his struggle for identity. He bemoaned the fact that he wasn’t taller and more menacing in appearance because he didn’t feel people gave him the respect he deserved. He had decided to “remake his image”. He had my full and fascinated attention. He described the tattoos he intended to get all over his arms and back. Dragons and other threatening images to overcome the impression that he was young and “baby faced”. He even declared, “I’m almost thirty years old” and he determined he had to change his identity now before it was too late. I wish I could effectively share the pain and desperation I heard in his voice.

Here is an adult man finding his identity in strip clubs and willing to remake his physical appearance to rip away the labels that have been attached to him. I’m convinced that artful fathering would have saved this man from so much pain he’s suffered and so much more he has yet to endure. I fear there’s no way to fully communicate how urgently the world needs men to embrace the art of fathering except to say this man, sadly, represents the vast majority of men stumbling through life tearing away (sometimes literally) at the labels that have become their identity.

There is a Remedy for Bad Labeling

Jim Kurth went through what I could only best describe as midlife crisis and in the midst of it he left my mom, moved in with another woman and filed for divorce. It was traumatic for some of my siblings but an incredible relief for me. It was hard to get used to the idea that he was gone.

One of the unexpected consequences of his departure was the return of my father into my life. It was an amazing experience that helped me understand the power a real father can have in a person’s life. Even though he still struggled with alcohol and had any number of other personal problems, my father had a whole different set of names for me.

When I first met my father he took me around and proudly introduced me to all his friends and, seemingly, anyone on the street who would stop long enough to be introduced! His mannerisms and language all added up to “This is my beloved son and I am fully pleased with him!” I still carry the scars of my stepfather’s negative assessments piled on through the years, but my father’s unconditional love and proud declarations to the world brought unbelievable healing to my wounded soul. Hurt can be healed and none of us is perfect. Past mistakes cannot be used to excuse continued bad fathering.

Truth in Labeling

As important as the initial naming of your children is, the labels you add to it over the years are what truly reinforce and define that name. Here’s another story from the Bible…

9 One day Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee, and he was baptized by John in the Jordan River. 10 And when Jesus came up out of the water, he saw the heavens split open and the Holy Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven saying, “You are my beloved Son, and I am fully pleased with you.”

Beloved Son…what a great label. Not only that, but his father is fully pleased with him. Your children need to know two things. That they are beloved and that you are fully pleased with them. That doesn’t mean you can never be upset or disappointed with some of your children’s behaviors. You absolutely have an obligation as father to express your disappointment and displeasure in wrong behavior. However, there is a world of difference between identifying bad behavior and labeling a child as a bad person.

The most consistent label Jim Kurth pasted on me was “irresponsible”. It seemed to me that, in his eyes, it was my general state of being not related to particular instances or choices I’d made. Globally I was irresponsible according to him and for a very long time I believed that to be true. It’s devastating to be labeled with words that are negative and hurtful. By words and actions we communicate so many things to our children. Stupid, worthless, inept, slow, clumsy, weak, not loved, not my child and so many more labels are attached to us by father. On the other hand we can just as easily label them genius, gifted, adept, graceful, sharp, strong, worthy, my beloved child. From a child’s perspective either set of words is absolutely true if they’re spoken by their father.

Which labels are you consistently using for your children?

It’s not too late to switch lists if you’ve been using the hurtful one so far. It will take some practice to check what you say to your children before you actually let the words out of your mouth. Here’s another Biblical truth; words have power and once they’re sent out they can’t be brought back. You can start sending better labels to reverse some of the damage the bad labels have inflicted. At this point I must acknowledge that much of what you’re saying to your children are labels first affixed to you by your father. In many ways you’re simply peeling them off and pasting them on your children. Think about that!

In Case You Missed It - Tell A Story

Through the years I’ve had the opportunity to work with teens as a youth minister. One exercise I’ve done over and over again is a name sharing. The rules are simple. You share your full name, first, middle and last. You tell about the origin of your name, how it was selected, any nicknames you’ve acquired over the years, and any other history behind the name you’d like to share. Finally, you tell the group the name you’d prefer to be called. This innocuous little activity is consistently one of the most powerful exercises I’ve ever witnessed. Sharing that much about your name opens the door to tell stories about family, origins, self-perception and more, stories that aren’t always easy to tell. It’s so intimidating for some that they can barely share anything in the circle. There have been some who say almost nothing except their name itself and some who’ve passed altogether rather than touch the pain associated with their names. The most amazing thing to me isn’t when someone can’t share because of the pain but when someone tells me they don’t know anything about their name. It’s happened almost every time I’ve done this over the years. One or more of those in the circle shrug and say “I don’t know where my name came from.” How sad is that? We need to tell our children the stories of their names. You, as father, should be telling your children where their names came from, why you picked it special just for them, the history of your family name, warts and all. We all need to know about the name that defines us and where it’s rooted. That’s part of what you must be doing as father.