Tag: God

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Thoughts on Twenty Father’s Days

Having been a dad for 20 years now, I finally feel qualified to write on the subject. First, happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. You are blessed, whether it’s your first one or your 50th. My hat’s off to you, and I’m humbled and honored to be among those granted the privilege of having children.

I know so many great dads, men who make it look easy being the provider and protector, the coach, the “rock” of their families, the patient listeners, the stoics who toil away without complaint, the men who have quite literally given their lives to support their families. I’m grateful to the unsung, yet so unquestionably worthy men, who sacrificed so their children could have better lives, gain better opportunities and live in better neighborhoods than where their fathers grew up. A lot of guys don’t get much credit for that. Most don’t want it. They see it as just doing their job. I see that as all the more reason to celebrate fatherhood, at least for one day.

And, in case you’re wondering, here’s why most of us dads don’t care about the “recognition,” or complain about not getting the respect we deserve.

father and son take in the view

It’s because … (shh, don’t tell anyone) … we actually love it. It’s true. I love being a dad! As a young man, I always knew I wanted a family. When I got married, my wife and I decided not to have kids right away. I don’t regret that special time we had as a couple, but honestly if I could do it over, I would’ve had kids sooner. Even though I wanted children, and we spent time praying (and practicing a lot) to have kids, when my daughter was born, I was completely unprepared for the joy that she immediately brought into my life.

I thought that my wife and I were happy, and we were. And granted, she was such a beautiful, bright and easy-going baby. Everyone who met her was instantly impressed with her smile, her sunny disposition and her wonderful, inquisitive nature. But I had no idea how much becoming a little family would multiply our joy. I didn’t know that being a father would be such an incredible blessing, and would change my entire life for the better. And I had no idea it would be so much fun!

I learned the unimaginable joy of singing her to sleep, of hearing her coo and giggle, and the wonder of playing peekaboo and cuddling. As she grew, the fun turned into building her dollhouses, swings and playsets, making forts together, having her hit a baseball, and teaching her to ride a bike.

You cannot fathom the simple pleasure of throwing your little girl up in the air, seeing her eyes come alive, watching somehow in slow motion for one weightless nano-second, and as she falls you catch her, hair falling around her face, and she begs you to “Do it again, Daddy!” I would not trade that feeling for anything in the world.

Then my son was born, and I got to do it all over again, the same… but different. I thank God for my kids every day. As they’ve grown up, I’ve had a front-row seat, watching them become the awesome young people that they are today. It has been a tremendous, life affirming experience that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed.

Has it always been rosy? Of course not. My son has had health struggles since infancy. Sometimes it seemed like we were in the ER every other month, dealing with one mystery illness or another. One day he broke his arm in two places and I rode in an ambulance to one hospital, only to find out they couldn’t help him, and took another ambulance ride to a different hospital. The entire time he was in agony. Every-single-bump-in-the-road. For hours. They tried everything but could not figure out a way to numb his pain. I kept telling him everything would be ok. And it was, eventually. I don’t know who was more traumatized by that day: him or me.

Today, by the grace of God, he’s 6’4” and healthy, despite the occasional crippling migraine that comes out of nowhere. I’m proud of the young man he has become, and I’m grateful that even though he’s bigger than I am, he still gives me hugs. J

My kids aren’t perfect. How could they be? They didn’t have perfect parents!

I’ve told people – and this may shock some of you – our kids are probably going to need therapy because of the things we did (and didn’t do) as parents.

I’m only half joking.

I mean, yeah you can laugh about it, but I’m sorry: you’ve damaged your children. I sure have. Below are some examples that perhaps my fellow dads can relate to.

Have you ever yelled at your kids, not because they were doing anything especially terrible, but just because you were having a bad day? I have.

Have you ever made your son go to school when he was sick, because you thought he was faking it, but then it turned out he really was sick? I have.

Did you ever tell your daughter to play through the pain when she hurt her wrist? And she did, and the next day you took her to get her arm x-rayed, and it was fractured? Guilty.

Did you ever call your child a name, like “you little brat,” or call them lazy, or snotty, or spoiled? Yeah, I have.

Did you ever miss a performance or a school play, or not help them with their homework, because you were “too busy” or because you knew your wife would do it? Multiple times.

Have you ever passed up a “teachable moment” because you were just too tired to explain or too afraid to have “that conversation” when the opportunity presented itself? Same here.

Have you ever gotten home late and secretly hoped the kids were asleep, so you wouldn’t have to read that frickin’ little book one more frickin’ time ‘cause you’re pretty sure you’ll go insane? I have.

Have you ever embarrassed your kids in front of their friends? Did you sort of enjoy it? Yeah, me too.

Has your child ever asked why you weren’t there when _____, or how could you make them _____, or why you lied to them, or why you just don’t care, or don’t understand, or why you’re so mean, or why we can’t afford to _____? I’ve been there, too.

Has your child ever disappointed you? Do they know “that look” you give them when they do? Have you ever seen their face fall, head bowed low, when you didn’t respond as they’d hoped you would? I have. It’s heartbreaking.

The Bible says “Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.” Have your children ever become discouraged trying to please you? Mine sure have.

I truly believe, the question is not IF you will mess up your kids. The question is only HOW you will mess them up.

And let’s face it… parenting is impossibly difficult.

You have to encourage them. Can you encourage them so much they get a false sense of self, or worse, become arrogant?

You have to teach them. Can you do that without lecturing? Are you teaching them the right things? Are you preventing them from discovering things on their own?

You have to discipline them. Can you be too tough on them? Not tough enough?

You have to be honest with them. Do you pretend there’s a Santa until they stop trusting you? Can you be too honest, too soon?

You have to protect them. Can you keep them in a bubble? Do you need to let them cross the river on the slippery rocks and find out what happens if they fall in?

You have to help them push past their fears. Can you end up pushing too hard? Will they end up getting hurt because they’re trying to prove to you they’re brave?

You have to model good behavior. Does that turn into an act you’re putting on when they’re around? Will they start to believe Dad never gets angry, never gets frustrated, never fights with Mom, is always calm, always cheerful, always patient? Are you setting an impossible standard?

Even if (you think) you’ve figured it out with one child, you’ll discover those tactics don’t work with the next kid. It’s like they’re unique human beings or something!

Now, before you start wallowing in self-pity or guilty feelings, I’m here to tell you: don’t.

Don’t blame yourself. Don’t believe the lie that it’s all up to you. Don’t believe your kids have no chance at a “normal” healthy life, because you’ve permanently damaged them.

I say that if your kid is in therapy because of something you did, then great! At least they know they need therapy and they’re getting help.

Far worse off is the young adult who thinks they had the perfect parents and perfect childhood and so they don’t need any help to go make their way in the world.

That was me.

I knew my parents weren’t perfect, but I still believed that I’d survived my childhood relatively unscathed, and that I was smart enough, talented enough, educated enough and tough enough to bend life to my will. Click here to read how that turned out.

But I digress.

The point is: give up on the idea you can be the perfect parent. You can’t.

What you CAN do is love your kids.

You can’t love them perfectly. But the #1 thing your kids need to know, by your words and by your actions, is that you love them, unconditionally. That’s how God love us. And that’s how we need to love our children. The “1 Corinthians 13” kind of love. Patient. Kind. Humble. Enduring. Forgiving. Hopeful. Never ending.

My dad wasn’t the best father. He didn’t always know how to show it, but I always knew he loved me. He didn’t teach me a lot of things. But he showed me how to be generous. He showed me how to work hard and sacrifice for your family. He taught me that people matter more than money. He taught me that life isn’t fair, and that the world didn’t owe me anything. He told me not to sweat the small stuff.

So dads, please give yourself a break. Give your kids a break. Love and respect are a two-way street. Keep your side of the street clean. Yes, you’re going to disappoint each other. It’s okay, just keep on loving. And remember, you’re the adult in the relationship. Be the “bigger” person. Be the wiser person. Take the longer view. They don’t know what you know, yet. Don’t be surprised when they don’t take your advice. Did you listen to your parents at that age?

And no matter their age, enjoy your children TODAY. I once asked a very wise dad of five children, “Which age is the best?” He told me, “They’re all the best. And they’re all the worst.” So true.

When you have toddlers, LOVE that they are toddlers.

When they’re needy little beggars, LOVE that they need you.

When you have middle-schoolers, love those awkward years!

When you have teenagers, LOVE your teens! (Few others will.)

When they don’t seem to need you anymore, LOVE their newfound independence!

When you have young adults, LOVE that they will not be the people you expected. Trust that God has a plan for them, and they have to walk their own path, not yours.

Enjoy the journey.

Enjoy the relationships.

Enjoy the day off.

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Faith in humanity — oops!

I’m an incurable optimist.

I think it’s in my DNA. I’m one of those people who finds a silver lining for every cloud, a “bright side” for every tragedy. If we’re friends, I can hardly wait for you to finish telling me how bad your day was before I can interject how it could’ve been worse. (The whole time you’ve been complaining, I’ve been silently cataloguing the “good stuff” that you’ve overlooked in the midst of your bad mood.)

Honestly, I’m kinda proud of my optimism. It’s hard-won. I didn’t grow up in the perfect family. My dad was a raging alcoholic. I was the shy introvert in an entire family of extroverts. I wasn’t popular in school. In fact, I was bullied, teased and excluded. The few friends I found were labeled “losers” by pretty much everyone — and my best friends had the annoying habit of moving out of state. (This happened about 4 times with 4 different “besties.”) Poor me.

And yet, I’ve always chosen to see the best in people. I’ve always trusted folks unless they gave me a reason not to. I give people the benefit of the doubt, I don’t judge a book by its cover, and my cliches always come in threes. 🙂

In 7th grade, I read The Diary of Anne Frank. Most of you are probably familiar with the autobiographical work, which describes a teenage girl’s experience in Nazi Germany during WWII. Her Jewish family were forced into hiding, were captured and sent to concentration camps (Auschwitz and then Bergen-Belsen), where Anne eventually died.

In spite of everything…

Before perishing in a concentration camp, Anne wrote a curious thing: “In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

Wow. Despite everything she’d endured, being ripped from her home and family, seeing thousands of people suffering and dying all around her, Anne Frank held firm in the belief that people are basically good. Maybe she needed to believe that. Maybe her optimism was a survival instinct. Maybe mine is too.

Anyway, I think her book had such an impact on me because it confirmed what I believed: that despite how terrible we can treat each other, despite wars and greed and rape and murder, most people are just trying to be the best they can, to do the best they can. Most people aren’t evil. Most people are basically good. I think we all want to believe that. It feels good. It feels right.

“Plaque of Anne Frank’s tree” by NomadWarMachine is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 nc

And so I grew up, went to college, got married, and began raising a couple of kids. Life was good.

Until it wasn’t.

At the age of 35, I was struggling. My life was ostensibly “good,” even great… at least on paper. But on the inside, not so much. The outer trappings of success were not enough. I projected confidence, integrity, strength and a “can do” attitude to the world. It didn’t hurt that the wife and kids were very photogenic. 🙂 But my inner life was one of isolation, chaos, fear, cravings and compulsions, and the haunting thoughts that I would never amount to anything: that my best would never be good enough. I was constantly lying to myself and others to keep up appearances… to project the person I believed they wanted me to be. The “chameleon” act was exhausting. It also prevented me from discovering who I really was, and what I really wanted from life.

That’s when I was introduced to the 12 Steps. I didn’t have a “come to Jesus” moment. It was a process: in fits and starts, in baby steps and eventually in huge leaps. Via the Steps, I met my Higher Power. I met Jesus. He saved me from myself, and gave me my life back. My whole life. Inside and out. I was (and still am) finally happy. Finally, authentically me.

Why am I telling you this? Because it was during this time that I first did a California Fourth Step. It’s a long and grueling (AAs call it “fearless and thorough”) personal inventory, with hundreds of questions separated into stages of life: childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. Most people take weeks or months to complete it, if they even make the attempt. (I dare you to try it!)

Do you feel all human beings are basically good…?

Now to the point: in the adulthood section of the California Fourth Step, there’s an interesting question: “Do you feel all human beings are basically good and sensitive?”

In answer to the question, I wrote simply, “Yes.” Then I moved on to the next question. I didn’t think much about it.

A few weeks later came Step Five. That’s when you take the answers you wrote in Step Four and read them out loud to another person in the program, sometimes called a “sponsor.” (Yikes! Yes, I actually did this.)

Now, when I read my answer to my sponsor, he said, “Really? Basically good? Are you sure about that?”

So I opened my mouth to defend my answer. We Chatfields are good debaters and as you’ve already discovered, I’m an incurable optimist. I was ready to prove my point. I do love a good argument! But instead — in that moment — I hesitated. I thought about everything I’d written about in my Fourth Step, about my inner thought life, about what had been done to me, and what I’d done to others. I thought about all the fear-motivated rationalizations, the deceptions, the lies I told myself. I thought about the fact that every single one of the people I have hurt most in life have been the people closest to me.

And I just started laughing!

It finally dawned on me. OF COURSE people are not basically good… who was I kidding?! I guess I was finally “woke,” as the kids say today.

It took me until middle-age to figure it out

Shockingly, I took until my mid-thirties to uncover this myth. And yes, it’s a myth. A lie. People are NOT basically good. This is demonstrably true just by viewing the world as it is, and comparing that to what it could and should be.

First, let me say that by “basically” I mean “fundamentally,” or “intrinsically,” as it were.

So, I’m not going to trot out a bunch of facts (stats on genocide, rape, greed, sloth) and psychological studies (Milgram comes to mind), to prove my case, but I could. Instead I’m going to asked some pointed questions, which all begin with, “If people are basically good…”

  • Why is it easier to lie than to tell the truth?
  • Why are some people starving when others nearby have more than enough to eat?
  • Why are we quick to excuse our own bad behavior, lauding our good intentions, but even quicker to harshly judge others’ behavior– and assume their motivations are impure?
  • Why do we have thousands of laws when we couldn’t even keep 10 simple commandments?
  • Why can people, especially children, be so cruel to each other?
  • Why is it easier to hate than it is to forgive?
  • Why do newspapers and news media tend to focus on the negative?
  • Why do we hurt the ones we love?

As a Christian, I believe scripture backs me up on this. Don’t worry, you won’t have to read very far. In Genesis, the first book of the Bible, we find Adam and Eve selfishly disobeying God, breaking the one and only rule he gave them. When caught, does Adam take responsibility, fess up and ask forgiveness? No, he throws Eve under the bus (and even blames God, indirectly). I’m paraphrasing Adam: “This woman you gave me handed me the apple, and I ate it.” Then God turns to Adam’s mate. Surely, she’ll do better. So, Eve, what do you say? “It wasn’t my fault, the serpent deceived me!” The Devil made me do it.

Elsewhere in the Old Testament, Psalm 14 says, “The LORD looks down from heaven on the human race to see if there is one who is wise, one who seeks God. All have turned away; all alike have become corrupt. There is no one who does good, not even one.” Pretty clear.

If you prefer the New Testament, one of my favorite lines from Jesus is in Matthew 7:11, “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” God’s opinion on the matter is made even more clear when you realize the audience to whom Jesus is speaking is his own disciples!

If you’re not a Christian you can dismiss/ignore the Biblical references. But I actually think the atheists would side with me on this one. Atheists believe that humans are simply higher apes, right? We’re animals that have evolved to become intelligent manipulators of our environment. So, our animal nature to hunt, survive, carve out territory and basically “kill or be killed” makes perfect sense. And the popular conception that human beings are a virus (or a cancer) that is destroying our beloved Earth, killing off other species, fits right in with my line of thinking. Humans are the only animals that hunt for sport. One of the first dogs I owned was a ‘rescue’ puppy who had been thrown (with 8 of her litter-mates) out of the back of a moving pickup truck, into a drainage ditch. Humans are the only animals that can be in-human.

Now, let me be clear. I’m not denying that some humans can be pretty decent some of the time, or even most of the time. Heck, we can even be self-sacrificing, brave, heroic and honorable. Examples are everywhere, if you look. I’m an optimist, remember? What I’m saying is that in those moments, those “good people” are NOT displaying their human nature. No, in fact they are *rising above* their human nature.

It’s not human nature, for most of us, to help save the human race, or even to help our neighbor. Human nature is to sit on the couch, grab some Pringles and binge-watch Netflix because you had a long day at work, you’re emotionally spent and you’re just too damn tired to do anything else right now. That’s most people, most of the time. Me included.

And let’s face it: Anne Frank, the concentration camp victim, saw the world through the eyes of a child. I love her innocence and naiveté. But she was a kid. She was ignoring the fact that she and 6 million fellow Jews were not being personally annihilated by Hitler and a handful of Nazi party members. No. It was, collectively, the entire country of Germany — millions of people — who either carried out those atrocities, stood by and watched, or hid their eyes and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. Are we to believe, as she did, that most people are good at heart? Or is it easier to believe we are all sinners, desperately in need God’s mercy and grace?

I sometimes hear people say, “So-and-So restored my faith in humanity!” I want to have faith in humanity, I really do. But as humans, we have a pretty poor track record. I prefer faith in God. Jesus said apart from him we can do nothing. I truly believe that. So I’m convinced that anything good in my life, any good inclination I have, any hopeful or helpful or unselfish word or deed I’ve ever expressed, simply isn’t in my human nature. It’s the divine nature of the Holy Spirit working in me and through me.

About that optimism thing…

So, yes I believe people are basically self-serving and that human nature tends toward sin. We’re our own worst enemies. It’s embedded in our human nature to destroy ourselves. So, does that mean despair? What’s an optimist to do?

Again, it comes back to faith. It’s been said that fear is just misplaced faith. If I’m afraid, that means I’m focused on the wrong thing. I’m hoping my talents, abilities, resources will win the day. Or I’m hoping my job, my boss, my spouse or my country will “do the right thing.” If you look at where our society is heading, it’s easy to be afraid. But I can’t put my faith in society, or who the next president is, or science and technology.

“On Faith” by FirewallJC is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 

I can put my faith in an all powerful, infinitely loving God. A God who knows my weaknesses, because he made me. A God who accepts me and loves me unconditionally. That’s where my faith belongs, and why I can hope in the future, no matter how uncertain it may appear from my extremely narrow and murky point of view.