Raising Myself First

Some people think we’re crazy. My wife and I, married five and a half years, have had four little boys in that time. The eldest will be turning 5 this summer; the youngest will be 1 year old next month. Oh, and I’m only 25, with another birthday myself not until the beginning of November.

As I say, some people think we’re crazy.

But that’s the thing of it. We’ve not just gone through pregnancies, births, feeding, diapering and transporting those four boys around. Yes, of course, we’ve gone through all those normal parts. But we’ve not just sat idly by as our boys have come into this world and grown. We’ve grown, had to grow, right alongside them.

As a father of four little boys, I hope earnestly my example will put them in good stead when they reach manhood, and also between now and then. Unfortunately, being human, I encounter facets of my personality from time to time which, as I’m honest with myself, it becomes apparent must be adjusted, removed, replaced or grown if I am to make good on my intention to lead my sons by good example.

Case in point: my wife and I recently were chatting about a decision I made some months or years ago, or a number of decisions I’ve made in life, in which I wonder now whether a wiser course of action was available as an alternative to what I chose. At the time, when I made these decisions, as I weighed my options, it seemed I could only go one way, that there was only one course which was wise and good and honest, and that the other options were cowardly compromises. Still I wrangled with self-doubt, wondering in hindsight if I could have avoided some discomfort going another way, or thinking longer on the matter, or asking for advice from someone wise.

What a gift my Lauren is to me, though.

She stopped me, as she often does when I get to talking that way, and asked me directly: “If one of our sons were in a similar situation, what would you have wanted them to do?”

And that settled the matter. As I thought about it for a moment, I answered: “Well, I suppose I would want them to do as I did.”

“There you have it,” she said.

But as I continue on as a father, I learn more and more that I need to be making sure I know well the lessons I need to teach these young man-cubs before I venture to instruct. So a great deal of maturation has come for me, and probably more opportunities for growing personally than I’ve noticed or taken advantage of fully, by way of the blessing of these boys God has given me a chance to be a father to.

Had you asked me years ago, I might have thought I would be the one doing all the teaching. Instead, I find that I have learned a great deal more than I knew I didn’t know.

That’s the thing of it. Fatherhood, at least for imperfect men like me, takes a great deal of humility to do well. That’s not to say either that I am humble or doing fatherhood well. Rather, I at least know that in order to do it well I must be humble, and the more humble I am the better I do it. I know I must be able to look at myself honestly, to see my faults and shortcomings without turning away or denying them, and to be willing to apologize, to ask questions, to learn, to grow, to stand corrected. Won’t that be what I’m asking my children to do, after all? I can’t teach what I don’t know.

I want strong, courageous, honest, humble, gentle, considerate sons. So I must choose to be strong, and to do what I know I must despite fears and opposition; I must choose to tell the truth, even when it’s inconvenient to do so; I must be humble, not arrogant; though choosing strength, I must use my strength in a way which guards others instead of either purposefully or accidentally hurting them; and I must consider my ways, the circumstances and those around me, and be respectful, polite and wise in my conduct.

Those little eyes are always watching, those ears always listening.

So again, people think we’re crazy. But I think we’re getting wiser as we go! Yes, these children try our patience. But also, yes, they are helping my wife and I to become more patient people, and I am growing as those children grow, trying earnestly to stay ahead of them in terms of maturity, to know what’s ahead that they need to learn about, what they need to become in order to live in peace and prosperity. And I learn in them that it’s okay to not have all the answers, to not have arrived yet in perfect maturity, so long as there is still hope to continue learning and growing.

And there is.