Category: Parenting

Who’s your daddy?

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Dear Diary

I really like Rabi Daniel Lapin. Today’s email blast struck a chord on something I wanted to just mention an idea on.

I used to keep a diary. Trust me, it was a scary thing. I’m terribly embarrassed by it, now and have thought of creative ways to destroy the volumes of terrible emotional venting. I also wish that I had kept a journal or diary over the past ten years because so much growth has occurred during that time and some of the wisdom acquired has been lost. I have a terrible memory that serves me as well as an Applebees waiter on Sunday.

So today I’ve felt mostly down. When asked what’s wrong, the only response I could come up with that didn’t incriminate against myself was “I’m not living up to my potential.”

That statement in itself is true and generic enough to let people derive their own conclusions. Life, work, marriage, fatherhood, worship, leading, following, you name it.

Sometimes it feels good to be emotionally drained. It leaves more room for the happiness in the days that follow.

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Twenty touches

Each night my children and I spend anywhere between fifteen minutes and two hours together. Most of that time is spent reading before bedtime, but that time is also used to reconnect.

Many years ago, my wife and I attended a Gary Smalley seminar where he briefly mentioned the importance of touch. It’s something we all need to live. So I thought to myself that if I don’t supply my children with enough positive words and touches each day then there may come a time in their teen years that they look for that need elsewhere and end up experimenting with touch in ways that isn’t allowed outside of marriage.

So I asked my kids, “Do you get enough loving touches throughout the day: pats on the head, pats on the back, hugs, kisses… stuff like that?” They all answered “no”. So I wondered – how much do they need? Then came the question. “How many times do you feel you would need to know you are loved?” The eldest child only thought briefly before saying her answer: “Twenty times!”.

That’s quite a bit of touching to take place over the two to three hours I have available for them during the week days. With the size of my family, if everyone got 20 touches a day that would add up to 100 touches a day – not including our dog.

If that were spread throughout a three-hour-twenty-minute period it comes out to touching someone every 2 minutes.

I only remember getting a meaningful touch about once every other week growing up, which was still more than most of the kids I knew. I’ll bet our society has even pulled back to the point that children are only given a meaningful touch once a month, and that’s reserved for when the child initiates the hug.

One last thought – giving my children that access to my personal space makes me a tangible figure for them. I become more real and more accessible in ways beyond the physical. Hopefully they’ll learn that and come to their real accessible Dad during the more trying years ahead.

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Stepping Into Autumn

Nothing brings a skip to my heart with the anticipation of fun and excitement like Autumn. As God’s carefully orchestrated song of color, odor and sounds fill the cool fall breeze, the hot angry days of summer come to a close and the cold bitter days of winter are still distant enough to forget them. The senses fall upon me as the wind that carries them flits in my hair; it causes me to remember my youth – any good of it – and the regrets of not taking more advantage of the good when I had it.

My parents, for example, made so many sacrifices for me but I didn’t learn as a child to appreciate them. How do you teach a child to appreciate? They don’t know the effort involved. Sometimes parents don’t either.

My children are all so unique. Sometimes I have to seek out what they appreciate. For example, running across a series of straw bales doesn’t look exciting to me, but to one of my daughters it’s a thrill! Her face lights up as she realizes that her Daddy endorses a little frolicking on the large golden bricks.

As Summer turns to Autumn, and leaves change in the cooling breeze I’m reminded of the importance of change. It reminds us of that which is constant. How when we fall apart, our loving God and caring parents are there to piece us back together.

And while nothing gold can stay, perhaps these golden memories I have with my children now will stick around long enough for them to have their own families and share their fond memories of them to their children.