The Dispensable, Disposable Man... A Disjointed Rant

Nary a day goes by when I don't hear or read of the woes of motherhood, womanhood, or wifehood. No, not by my wife, for she's not a complainer. However, society has become a "safe place" for womanly complaining.

Ah, the stresses of the angelic mothers out there! They cook, they clean, they (gasp) care for their offspring.

Today I was made aware of a Facebook post by a woman who was bemoaning the myriad stresses in her life. She, apparently, has several children. She complained that they were all too young to prepare their own meals, clean up after themselves, or--I guess--contribute anything of value to the family. She listed the multiple responsibilities she had throughout the day, how she didn't have time to pamper herself, how she rarely wore anything but sweats and no makeup, and had to pump milk for her youngest child.

To be fair, she posted this expression of "feel sorry for me" in a moms' group on Facebook, obviously expecting to receive accolades from her semi-anonymous sisters in the struggle. I'm sure she received it, as sympathy for the plight of a sainted mother who draws public attention to herself is the societally correct thing to do.

The women who say and post such self-serving things are rarely wont to recognize the hard work and sacrifices of their partners. No, in fact, they will more often than not complain about them as well. In their self-absorption, they will not see the contribution of the man, and if it is ever brought up they'll simply say, "well, that's just his job."

Let me be clear. Motherhood is hard. I get it. It's not hard to see that motherhood has a lot of challenges. However, complaining about it simply undermines any sympathy or empathy an outsider might be tempted to feel for you. Not only that, but motherhood is not any harder for you than for the billions of other mothers out there. Seriously, what makes you think your situation is so unique?

And I will say this, too. Motherhood is not one iota more difficult, hectic, frustrating, exhausting, or undervalued than fatherhood.

GASP!

Yes, you can complain about your children asking for something the second you sit down in your easy chair. You can complain about your children throwing tantrums and making messes. You can complain that you have to take the time to do a biological function that your body was specifically designed to do. And you'd be right. Those things are all very frustrating.

But while you're in the comfort of your home, watching your television or, more likely, taking the time to complain on Facebook about your woes, your husband has been working in just as high-stress an environment. He may not have even had the opportunity to sit down once throughout his work shift. He may have been dealing with tyrannical customers, an overbearing employer, the fear of failure, obnoxious coworkers or worse. He may have been cursed at, treated with utter distaste, or insulted to his face. He may have spent hours in sales meetings designed to tell him that he's not selling enough while at the same time he faces the frustration that this very meeting is keeping him off the sales floor. But you don't see him stopping to post his woe-is-me moment on Facebook. No, he doesn't have time for that. If he took as much time to complain as you do, chances are he'd be fired.  You see, in many cases, the very fact that you have the time to tap out your frustrations on your computer or phone is a clear indicator that you're not nearly as busy as you think you are. Maybe you don't manage your time very well, or maybe you simply don't try as hard as you want everyone to believe.

And that man who puts up with all that nonsense throughout his day may want only one thing: to walk in and see the smiling faces of his wife and children and know that they're excited to have him home. But he can't have that. He has to stay focused on the job. He can't just give up and let it pile up, because if he does he'll lose the job he only goes to in order to support you. Most people in this country don't go to work because they love it. They go because they have to to make ends meet.

Think about this the next time you have an "I don't care" day and just throw up your hands and quit making an effort: If he let junk pile up on his desk the way you let laundry pile up at the house, if he just sat and played on Pinterest instead of doing what he was being paid to do, if he routinely became so emotionally overwhelmed that he couldn't function at work, he'd probably get fired.

Yet, he hasn't fired you for doing all those things, has he?

So, my not-politically-correct advice to you? Suck it up, Buttercup. You've got life a lot easier than you think you do.

I was recently thinking about a woman whose intention was to sign up for in vitro fertilization and bear a child out of wedlock. She had no man in her life who could or would be a father figure to said child. The woman simply wanted a child, so she planned to bypass familial norms and have one. Because she wanted one.

Because she wanted.

Alright, let me be blunt: there are many single parents out there doing the best job they possibly can. There are many single parents out there who desire the best for their children. There are many single parents out there who have been abandoned by their partners, and through no fault of their own, found themselves in the unenviable position of having to raise a child alone. The sad truth, however, is that the vast majority of single parents played a critical role in their singleness. Most relationships do not end solely due to the actions or decisions of one member of the couple. Most relationships end because both partners put themselves before the one they claim to love. Selfishness is the primary reason for breakups and is usually practiced by both partners prior to a breakup. Lack of forgiveness is a sign of selfishness as well. Sex with someone you're not committed to is an extreme form of selfishness.

All that aside, I'd like to address the concept of intentionally bearing a child you plan to raise on your own. Selfishness is the only reason to plan a scenario like this. A child who does not yet exist has no needs, therefore, the desire to "have one" is selfishness at its core. Studies universally show that children benefit from two-parent families in a healthy home environment. Even these very women who desire to go it alone are emotionally moved when they see a good dad doing what he's supposed to do and bonding with his kids. It's innate knowledge in all of us that a healthy family consists of a father and a mother lovingly raising their children together.

Some fathers, and--admit it or not--some mothers are unfit for parenting. Abuses occur, neglect occurs, selfishness occurs. Families do not always remain intact, and in some cases, the children are safer and healthier when one of the parents is no longer in the picture. However, this is the exception to the rule, not the rule itself.

Often, those who have been the children of such dysfunctional scenarios have a very jaded view of fatherhood. Frankly, in a culture that has gradually devalued fatherhood, the vast majority of children from broken homes live full-time with their mothers. Absentee fathers are often demonized by the mothers as a way of reinforcing their own sense of value. Children pick up on that and are further traumatized by the custodial parent's ongoing derision of the other parent, a parent the child inevitably considers a part of himself (look up Parental Alienation Syndrome for more information).

However, to choose to remain single, for whatever reason, and still decide to bear a fatherless child is the epitome of selfishness. To recognize that children should have a father but to intentionally deprive them of one, simply because you want to possess a child without the effort of a relationship is evil.

Being a good parent requires you to always place the needs of your child before your own. To selfishly choose to bear a child with the full intention of depriving him of both of his parents automatically, and forever, disqualifies you from being called a good parent.

Daily Whim 11-04-2012

This is an unusual time in my life.  I'm sitting in my living room with The Pursuit of Happyness playing on the DVD player.  To my left, my mother is sitting in the brown faux-leather chair.  To my right, my wife sits on the love-seat eating a leftover piece of cake from yesterday's baby shower.  Against the wall is a table that holds a pile of gifts brought to the shower by friends and family.  Above our fireplace is a banner that says "Baby Shower" in bright colors and cute shapes.

Krystal's good friend, Mallory, is on her way over to hang out with Krystal for a bit. Tiegen is sitting on the couch next to me, eating a cookie and dropping crumbs on my shoulder.

In the midst of it all, I feel the need to write.

It's an interesting time.  Krystal's doctor has said that Krystal is dilating and her body is prepared to go into labor.  She could, literally, go into labor at any time.

A month ago, the Davis Cellular store I managed was acquired by a larger company called Z Wireless.  It came as a bit of a shock at first, but as time has gone by, I've come to realize that there are many more opportunities for me with Z Wireless.  It's growing rapidly, and opportunities for advancement come far more often.  As much as I loved working for Davis Cellular, I believe God has His hand in this.

So, here I sit:  pregnant wife on one side expecting to go into labor any moment, adjusting to a new work culture, wondering who is going to cover my store when I have to head to the hospital, preparing to vote in one of the most crucial elections in recent history, and desperately... desperately needing a day of solitude.

It isn't that I don't want to be around my family.  Not in the slightest.  It's that I simply need everything to pause for just one day while my brain tries to catch up.  There's a lot of jumbled thoughts bouncing around inside my skull -- thoughts about finances, about patriotism, about family dynamics -- thoughts about health, about the age of our car, about how five-year-old Tiegen is going to handle having a baby invading his life -- about ministry, about dreams, about what the next step is in the journey God has called me into -- about relatives, about lawn mowing, about coffee and how it's helped me survive this last freakishly fast month.  My mind is spinning.

A few months ago, I went to my oldest son's high school graduation.  He's eighteen and ready to launch his Air Force career.  My second son is fourteen and an amazing guy whose options in life are limitless.  I long so deeply to be close to them.  Tiegen, Krystal's five-year-old son, is an outstanding young man whose bright, cheerful personality and impressive intelligence make him a joy to be around.

But it's weird.  I have an eighteen-year-old son and am about to have a newborn daughter.  Wrap your mind around that for a moment.

Yesterday our house was loaded with people who came for the baby shower.  It was energetic and... well... crowded.  Everyone was very nice and gracious.  Everyone was happy and supportive, and there were no problems.  But it was a social environment for which I was not prepared.

This is one of those posts in which I become exceptionally transparent.  You see, I've been in front of people all my life.  I've preached, taught, sung, and acted.  I have no trepidation, whatsoever, about being in front of hundreds or even thousands of people.  I've sung on television.  The largest live audience in front of whom I've sung was around fourteen thousand.  No problem.

But, put me in a room with a bunch of people with whom I have to personally interact, and I break out in a cold sweat.  It's not fear.  It's dread.  There's a difference.  I don't like it.  I do almost anything I can to avoid it.

It really has very little to do with the people in the group.  It's something inside me.

I'm a man of solitude.  I have to have it.  I always have.

When I lived in Alaska and I felt this way, I had a wonderful outlet.  I would take a day off and drive to Eklutna Lake (pictured below).  I would rent a kayak and spend the day paddling around the serene waters and feeling the breeze.  On one side I'd see a moose meandering among the trees and on the other a fox, or sometimes a bear.  An eagle would screech overhead and fish would periodically splash in the water.  I'd paddle for a few hours and pull in to rest along the shore (in the event that there weren't any random wild creatures nearby).

When I was there, I was at peace.  I could go all day and never see another person.  There were no power boats.  There were no electronic devices.  There was no need for interaction.  I could think, sing, pray, hope, and dream.

Since I moved to Missouri at the end of 2005, I have not experienced that.  Not once.  I've tried.  When I was working as the minister of music at Morrisville Assembly, I took a week and went to Table Rock Lake, outside of Branson.  I borrowed a canoe because they don't know what a real kayak is around here.  (A real kayak, not one of those stubby little plastic ones that bob around the rivers and creeks and creates so much drag in the water that you have to work exceptionally hard just to get it to move.  I'm talking about the long, sleek, smooth kayaks that glide nearly effortlessly and gracefully, leaving a long, narrow V-shaped ripple on the quiet water's surface.)  I found a campsite right at the edge of the water.  I got in late in the evening and set up the tent.  Then I cooked some food over the fire and bedded down for the night.

In the morning, I awoke to what sounded like the pit area at a NASCAR race.  When I walked to the water's edge, I saw why.  I was camped across a small lagoon from a major boat dock.  People were working on their boats, revving their engines, using power tools, yelling over the noise of the engines, and otherwise reveling in the freedom to desecrate the silence and create oil slicks.

I shrugged my shoulders and dragged the canoe into the water.  I boarded and began to paddle.  I was on the water about ten minutes and I'd only been sworn at by two power boat drivers as they blew past me.  Both had felt the necessity of circling around, creating a huge swell that nearly capsized me, and stopping to mock my motorless transportation.  Then the clouds rolled in and a Southwest Missouri thunderstorm began.

I paddled back to the shore, turned the canoe upside down and crawled into the tent where I spent the next four days stubbornly refusing to go home despite the weather and the incessant dripping of the water into the inside of the tent.

I've been camping a couple of times since then, but never in solitude.

In solitude is self-analysis.  In solitude is growth.  In solitude is learning.  In solitude is peace.  In solitude is healing.

It's not about being away from the people I love.  It's about being alone with God.  In solitude I can speak out loud to Him.  In solitude I can be transparent.  In solitude I can let my guard down.  In solitude I can be free.