Sunday, April 20, 2014

A Father's Hope For His Children...

Quite often, I hear a voice that asks, “Now do you see?”

I remember a cold, snowy night back in 1996, when I was up late reading something really deep and philosophical (don’t believe that). I went downs
tairs for a piece of fruit (okay, more likely a Ho Ho) and to catch a glimpse of the 11 o’clock news (all right, all right, a ‘Cheers’ rerun).

I paused at the top of the stairs. My step-son Adam, who was eight at the time, was asleep in one bedroom, while my daughter Chloe, who was only eighteen months, was asleep in her crib in the other.

I’ve always loved watching my children sleep. It’s the greatest thing.

They were totally under my watch. They were safe and sound for another day. And, at least for a little bit, they weren’t trashing the kitchen, something they were able to do with alarming speed and skill.

At that moment, in the stillness of the night, they looked so peaceful. I realized I would do anything for those two.

The voice asked, “Now do you see?”

I remember a warm, sunny day in the summer of 2001, when Kim and I took the kids to Norris Lake, where we would join several other families for a week in the water and under the sun (which, in my case, means sizzling like a piece of bacon).

We would ski barefooted (but not me), do back flips off the back of the boat (not) and jump off high cliffs (not unless I saw a snake). It’s no secret why I was never asked to star in “Baywatch.”

On the first day, I caked Chloe and Adam in about an inch of sunscreen. I also pulled their life jackets tight. Then I made clear what they should not do: Don’t go near the boat propeller, don’t drift too far from everyone else and don’t be jumping in the water near a bunch of rocks.

In all, I probably had 10 rules for them to live by.

But my rules were not intended to take all the fun out of the experience. Just the opposite. The rules were there to enhance it. That’s what good dads do, right?

I heard the voice ask, “Now do you see?”



IF THERE HAD EVER BEEN a day when, at age 14, Adam worried he hadn’t earned enough money to pay for college, I’d have told him that’s not his worry. As a teenager, you’re limited to what you know and what you can do – even though a teenager thinks otherwise. Relax, Adam. I got it.

If there had been a day when, at age 13, a guy Chloe was “going out” with had broken up her, devastating her, I would have taken her for ice cream and then reassured her, “One day you’ll see this from a whole different perspective.”

And if there had been a day when either one of them was harshly judgmental of a classmate, I’d say what all of us would say: “You’re right. They’re a weirdo.” No, no, I’m kidding. I’d say, “The world is full of a lot of broken people. I’ll bet if you really got to know them, you’d see why they’re so hard to get along with.”

Good fathers offer love and guidance for a good life now. But they also offer hope for a better day tomorrow.

See, the deal between a father and his children doesn’t have to be real complicated. Show love. Be love. Feel love. Children have been known to feel more secure and at peace when they feel the love of their father. Life still presents challenges, but a father’s wisdom and assurance guides the way.

The relationship is not just a bunch of rules that take all the fun out of life, and then impose harsh consequences for not following them.

There's the voice again, “Now do you see?”

 



ADAM AND CHLOE are both adults now (ooh, that sounds weird), and Adam lives in Northern California while Chloe will soon head off to Ohio State.

No matter what they do and no matter how far away they go, my love for them will never change. I’m here for them. I will always reach out to them, hoping they will reach out to me, too. But they have freedom to choose: I cannot make them.

That’s why I think of Easter as a Father’s Day of sorts. We acknowledge a Father’s physical presence on Earth that made such an impact 2000 years ago that the calendar changed. We recognize a Father whose followers have multiplied the world over for more than 20 centuries.

We celebrate hope, through every hurt and struggle, and over death.

We celebrate life, now and forever.

I just heard the voice again. “Ah, you do see…”