by Brian G. Daigle While fathers may not be the most verbal of the two parents, and while fathers may say many things that both cause hurt or bring healing, a father's words matter. When fathers choose to speak, what they choose to say, when they choose to remain silent, what they say with their grunt or wag of a finger or wink of an eye, it all matters deeply for a child's self-understanding, knowledge of the world, and the child's view of their father. If we want to raise adults who are confident, competent, and courageous, if we want to raise sons and daughters who know a father's love, if we want to give our children a baseline human wisdom in the words we speak to them in even the must mundane moments around the house, there are twelve simple phrases children should hear fathers say: “Try to fix it.” Things break; that’s a fact of life. Kitchen appliances break. Cars break. Bodies break. Relationships break. Technology breaks. Things break. It is as common in the human condition as breathing. And when things break, either in our childhood or in our adulthood, we have a few choices to make. Some of those choices have to do with our emotional response. Others have to do with our mentality toward the breaking, and yet still there is how we choose to act and interact with others. If we want to raise adults who are competent and comfortable in a world that often breaks, we need to equip our children with early and often ideas of how to deal with breaking. Today, after cutting the grass, I asked Benjamin (6yo) to help me sweep the driveway, because the battery to my electric blower died before I could finish. We had two brooms. As I swept the sidewalk and he swept the driveway, I heard him call out to me, “Dad! It broke! I can’t sweep.” I looked and he held a piece of the broom in either hand, the broomstick in one hand and the head of the broom in the other. I said, “Try to fix it, buddy…” and I want back to sweeping, eager to see how he would respond, what he would do, knowing full well that he probably couldn't fix it, and my request to him was one just to keep him occupied until I finished sweeping my portion. But I encouraged him to fix it nonetheless. These moments tell us a lot about a child. They tell us how they go about solving a problem, how they meet with failure, how they handle unmet expectations, emotional responses and intelligence, attempts to repair, etc. I continued to sweep my portion, and when I walked back, his portion was done (as well as a five-year old could do it), and he was playing soccer with his sisters in the backyard. There was the broom, propped up against the outside table. Fixed. To be sure, this isn’t a paramount moment for a human, but a hundred moments like this in a given year, even a hundred in a given childhood, create a child who is far more comfortable and confident in the world. I made sure to tell him I was proud of him for persevering, fixing the broom and finishing the job, and for doing it all on his own with his big heart and smart brain. The world needs adults who create a “culture of repair” rather than a “culture of replace.” Sure, some things need to be replaced, but the majority of things in our lives will undergo a thousand repairs before they are replaced, and that includes nearly all the most important things. Often how we try to repair something will actually determine if it needs to be replaced, because how we repaired perhaps caused more damage. “Try to fix it,” should be something fathers often encourage in their children. And it should be said with a spirit of hope and encouragement, and not with a spirit of demanding agitation or curt frustration.
“Go play outside.” There is a wildness to masculinity, and there is a sense in a child that when a father says something, no matter what it is, it bubbles forth from a deep wellspring of strength and that same wildness. Some of the great theologians and philosophers have also pointed out that this same wildness is found in nature, outside, beyond the domestic. Children need this uncurated power; they need the beauty and sun and organic vitality of the natural world. There is much that could be said here, that both the classical and Christian tradition affirm regarding how nature forms the soul, especially the soul of children, orders the imagination, and why children need lots of outside time. More than that, they need a father who will give them permission and encouragement and strength in going “out” from the home to conquer whatever may be out there, where there is no roof over their head, where there are no walls to protect them, where beasts and buzzings alike may visit their person. A father who encourages a child to go outside to play offers but a small vote of confidence that whatever wildness is out there, his masculine strength believes the child can conquer it. And they will. The more the child and father have a mutual love and respect, the more they have a holy bond not interrupted by belittling or fussing or ignoring, the greater this vote of confidence will be in the child’s psyche. “Go play outside,” should be something fathers often encourage in their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of hope and encouragement, and not with a spirit of neglectful dismissiveness. “Can you help me?” I remember thinking as a child that my parents seemed invincible, that they were adults and could pretty much conquer anything, that perhaps they had conquered everything. They had cars, a home, children, jobs. But my goodness how I didn’t see all the complexities and difficulties that adulthood entailed. My fairytale image of my parents and step-parents, which was not specific to me but is the general experience of most children, meant that I ran to them when I was hurt, I respected their authority and strength, because, well, look at what all they could do! And so how invigorated my heart became when one of them genuinely asked me to help them. It’s remarkable with my own children when I ask if they can help me (and I do so in a tone that communicates I love and respect their humanity and ability), how quickly they are to jump in, even offer advice, and help. And how capable they feel. How needed and seen they feel! It can be the most menial thing, even something I could accomplish on my own, but I want them to be capable, I want them to be confident, helpful, courageous adults, and so that begins with me humbling myself and asking if one of them could help me. I also want them to see what I see and participate in the world as I do. Furthermore, it give us time together. It opens opportunities for bonding. I get to see their personalities. I see them work with me and work together. In addition, it shows them that even adults need help, even dad, and it is never wrong to ask for help, even from a child. “Can you help me?” should be something fathers often ask their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of humility, gratitude, and friendship, and not with a spirit of exasperation and ridicule. “We can’t afford that, sweetie.” (Or, “That’s not in our budget this month.”) At least a few times a week, a child needs to hear and know that we can't afford something, but this also depends on how many times they ask for something. It doesn't matter how much money you have and what the item is. And don't say it with sadness or despair. This simply shows a child early on that money has limits, and so do our appetites. Saying "We can't afford that," or "That is not in our budget," is a great way to show children we have financial priorities and money does not extend as far as our desires may go. This also shows that the father is aware of their resources, is wanting to use those resources for what is best, and is more concerned with the family (and the child’s) general well-begin than their immediate gratification. “We can’t afford that, sweetie,” should be something fathers often say to their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of giving, listening, and gentleness, and not with a spirit of burden and frustration. “Please beautify your space.” This is a common-enough saying in our home now, and it has come in quite handy, for nearly every space where a child lives in the home, or the car. After dinner. Their rooms. Their bathroom. Their drawers. In the morning. The car. Their play area. Any place a child has been is a space they occupied, and they should be made aware of that. Furthermore, they should know that when they are done with that space, especially if it is a communal space, they should beautify it. What does that mean? They should pick up the items and put them each in their “home.” They should wipe down the surface if needed, put away dishes, push in chairs. They should put the space they occupied into a harmonious and orderly fashion. This also puts beauty on the forefront of an important word you, as a father, use with them. It means they should think about beauty, that they should honor beauty, they should work for and build beauty. “Please beautify your space,” should be something fathers often say to their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of mutual delight, human virtue, and eager validation, and not with a spirit of complaint or criticism. “I’m sorry.” I truly believe this is self-explanatory for why fathers need to apologize to their children they have wronged them. And following that apology should be a bit of explanation, examining of conscience, and clarity for the child to know the father truly understands and is broken for the transgression. In order to raise men and women who right their wrongs, fathers need to apologize to their children and seek their forgiveness. Be warm about it. Be open. Show them your brokenness. Show them your growth and self-awareness. Heal the hurt you caused. “Go for it; try it!” (or “Go make a good decision.”) Children need the confidence that only a father can exude. They need permission to take risks, until their internal voice gives that permission itself. Fathers play a crucial role in a child’s inner voice, self-spoken voice, which will be with them forever. As children learn to navigate the world and themselves—a world which breaks, a world where fathers transgress against children, a world filled with beasts and buzzings, a world which can be chaotic or beautiful—fathers are crucial for children navigating risks and rewards, for children being affirmed in the risk they see is worth taking and the reward they want is worth pursuing. And when they succeed, be their biggest fan. And when they fail, encourage them to get up and be present for what they see they need from you. “I love you and I’m so very proud of you!” That’s all. Find times to say it, every day. “How could I have done that better?” It may be a bit strange to ask a child their perspective on how a grown man can do better. This may feel especially raw and uncomfortable for fathers who don’t want to be critiqued, fathers led by their pride, or fathers who have their own wounds from their own fathers. But this exchange between a child and a father can be particularly healing to both. What occurs when a father asks how he could have done better (or how we could do better) in a certain area, especially if he truly listens, dialogues a bit about it with the child, and puts the change into practice? The child’s unique and important perspective is known. The father isn’t above change. New information can be provided to both people. Basic human dialogue (without taking it personal) can happen in an objective way. A child’s opinion and voice are not merely dismissed but invited. The father learns humility. The child sees humility. The mother sees humility. The mother sees a father willing to listen and learn. And all kinds of growth in between each of those areas is deeply nourished. “Please go make it right.” Things break, as was said earlier. And that means our children often break them, especially relationships. When a father says, “Please go make it right,” the child then has the responsibility to do a few things: see what went wrong, their role in it, who it affected, the consequences of the brokenness, and the possible remedies toward health. All that, exercised over and over again in a person’s childhood, can create for one emotionally intelligent, empathetic, compassionate, intelligent, and healing human. “Please go make it right,” should be something fathers often say to their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of soft grace, respect, and clarity, and not with a spirit of demanding power or pain. “I’m here if you want to talk.” It is the case that men, more than women, are more closed, less prone to conversation, less vulnerable, less verbal, and yet fathers are crucial for the support and shepherding children need. A child, who is a willful and individual being, should also have freedom to self-assess and approach the father’s wisdom and resources as they need and when they are ready. This doesn’t mean the child’s perspective rules all. It only means that there are times a child’s need for space or self-confirmed help should be granted, and that the child knows that the father is there, waiting, to give when the child is ready to receive: to give love, tears, words, a listening ear, solutions, finances, questions, presence, stories, etc. Furthermore, the child’s life, ultimately is not your life, and this is especially true as they grow older and make their own decisions. However, they should know you are there, waiting patiently, even on their own time, to hear and grow with them, to walk through whatever darkness they bring, and to give whatever light they need. “I’m here if you want to talk,” should be something fathers often say to their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of invitation, mercy, and patience, and not with a spirit of merited favor or immediacy. “God has been very good to me.” Fathers are providers. They are strong and capable and able to provide. Or at least they should be, and most of the fathers I have met are exactly that. But from where does their strength come? How did they amass all they have? From whence comes their ability, intelligence, power, and possessions? Men are prone to want that praise turned back to them, and while there is a healthy degree or self-affirmation and honest hard work and intelligence that should be given and received by a man who rightfully deserves it, in the end the children need to know he is the man he is, he is the father he is, because their Father, the Father that is greater than him, the One who gives and takes away, the One who knew them long before this father, the One who will be with them until their final breath, even if their earthly father cannot be, is good and has been good to him. Furthermore, the children need to see this vulnerable statement of praise, and they need to know it lingers on their father’s heart and mind, and that the goodness of the Lord is ever-present and ever-acknowledged. If he does not give them that, how he has withheld the very best thing from them! “God has been very good to me,” should be something fathers often say to their children. And it should be said with a spirit and tone of mutual delight, human virtue, and eager validation, and not with a spirit of complaint or criticism.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
Archives
January 2025
Categories
All
|