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.

Unpacking While Packing...

My family is moving this week. We're moving back out to Mom and Dad's old farmhouse in Walnut Grove. My mom vacated the premises after her stroke a couple of years ago, and since then the place has fallen into dire disrepair.

We're on a time crunch, as we have agreed to vacate our current house by Sunday. Therefore, all the cleanup of the old farmhouse has to be done each evening after I get off work and we'll move our belongings over there on Saturday and Sunday.

We spent a good portion of yesterday cleaning out the house. Being out in the country, when there was no human movement, the mice took up residence in force. In response to the population boom in rodents, the snakes moved in thinking it was a smörgåsbord of  furry little creatures. So, we're finding empty rodent nests, droppings, and snakeskin all over the house. It's quite an undertaking to clear it all out and make it livable, a task which my wife has shown great fortitude in attacking. I've been under the weather for a couple of days, so yesterday's physical labor was less than stellar on my part.

As I'm going through the items in the house, I'm uncovering a lot of memories of my mom and dad. Faithful readers and friends will know that my dad was killed in a tractor accident on the farm in October of 2005. Though it's been nearly a decade, sometimes the memories of my father are overwhelming, as is the sense of loss. It's not as if I'm walking around in a grief-stricken daze. It's simply that sometimes the emotions wash over me and I miss my dad more than the average day.

Apparently, delving into all the personal effects around the house have triggered these emotions, not just in waves, but in tsunamis. I find myself becoming very sullen and quiet as the liquid grief washes through my soul. Yesterday I came across Dad's wallet. It was a weird sensation opening my dad's billfold and seeing his ordination card and ID in there. It's impossible to describe the feeling as I looked at it.

Rather than being a debilitating factor in my life, though, I've found that thoughts of my father bring me joy. Yes, there's the pain of loss and the loneliness that comes with wishing I could be with him and talk to him about life. However, I think back to the laughter he brought, to the tangible change he wrought in so many lives and I have to smile.

I have such a rich heritage. I had the privilege of watching my mom and dad pour themselves into the lives of countless people over the years. I had the dumbfoundingly awesome experience of seeing, first-hand, what a true heart of ministry and service was. My dad wasn't perfect. He'd be the first to say it. But through trials and tests, his character and commitment to Christ were always evident.

As I look at his belongings, the only physical remnants I have of his existence, I smile with blurry eyes. My dad loved me, and I him. My dad loved God and served Him until his dying day. My dad cherished my mother. He was a hard worker at everything he did. And, even when there was little recognition of his service, he still did it... because it was right.

I miss my dad, but I look forward to embracing him in eternity.

I can't put myself back in the pictures...

Most of you know about my kids, Palin and Tiegen. There are pictures of them plastered all over my Facebook and Instagram accounts. I mention the latest silly joke Tiegen told us or the funny little adventures of our two-year-old daughter.

Some of you, not all, know of my two older sons, Adam and Isaac. Adam, my oldest son is in the US Air Force, serving his country. My second son, Isaac, is becoming an accomplished young drummer as he finishes high school. He's full of energy and promise. Both are really great young men, of whom I am quite proud. I love them with all of my heart.

I don't post about my sons often because we don't talk much. You see, their mom and I divorced a long time ago, and I haven't been much of a part of their lives. I missed the sporting events, the band competitions, the school dramas, and even my oldest son's ASAF Basic Training graduation. I have a couple of pictures from Adam's high school graduation, which I was so excited to attend. I was stunned to find myself reaching up to hug my oldest son, and looking eye to eye with my younger one!

As I was looking at photos today, I noticed that I, as the photographer, am not in very many. I have tons of pictures of my wife and the kids, a few pictures of my Adam and Isaac... but I'm in very few. With Krystal and the little ones, the reason is common. I'm the one behind the camera. Therefore I'm rarely in the frame. With my older sons, I'm not in the picture because... I'm not in the picture.

I failed to be a part of my older sons' lives. I failed to know them the way I should. I failed to meet their friends. I failed to meet their girlfriends. I failed because... I failed.

I post about fatherhood on Facebook. People comment about what a great dad I am, and I feel like a fraud.

After a divorce, it's so easy to blame one's former partner. It's so easy to look outside oneself to try to justify the negative implications of one's actions. But, it's rarely accurate. Sure, a severed relationship always has two sides. Both husband and wife make choices that lead to the ultimate demise of the bond. In the marriage, both my former wife and I had our failures. We've each moved forward and tried to pick up the pieces and make better choices.

However, in the case of my sons, the only failure was mine. I should have never let any obstacle stop me from being in my sons' lives. I should have never lived more than a few minutes away. I should have been there. I should have told them daily how much I love them. I should have been their confidant. I should have... I should have...

But I didn't.

And as I look at the few pictures I have of my boys, without me, I shed bitter tears.

You see, because I failed, my sons grew up and became accustomed to living without me. It wasn't their choice, but it is a cold hard fact. My sons grew up calling another man Dad. He was there. He was in their world while I was hundreds of miles away wondering how they were doing. There was never a day I didn't think of them, but there were far too many days that passed without my reaching out to them.

And I realize that I'll never be in those pictures. The ones of the boys unwrapping Christmas presents in someone else's house. The one of them standing outside someone else's new car. I'll never be in those pictures because I wasn't even there. I wasn't there because of my own foolish choices.

And I also realize that I'll never really be in the picture. When I look at the photographs I see my conspicuous absence. However, the boys don't. You see, the people who were active parts of their lives were all there. Their mom, their step-dad, their maternal grandparents, uncles and aunts, friends... They were all there. I wasn't, because of my foolish choices.

And I live in the thick middle of regret. I live in a prison of my own making.

I'm so happy with my wife, my step-son and my daughter. I love them all so dearly. And yet, there are two gaping holes in my heart. I watch from afar as they enjoy their lives and grow into amazing men. I swell with pride at their talents and achievements, but I realize I played no part in them.

I'll never be in those photographs. Maybe, just maybe, I can be in some of the future ones.

Take a look at your life. Take a look at the people who hold you dear. Make sure you're in the photographs of your kids' lives by being in the picture.

God hates divorce for many reasons. One of the biggest is because of the innocent victims who suffer because of the choices of two people.

A Letter to My Children

A few days ago I watched the reports of a young woman humiliating herself on television and it set my mind in motion.  As of the writing of this letter, I have one adult son who is in the military, one teenage son who is in high school, one six-year-old son in first grade, and one 9-month-old daughter who is just learning to walk and talk.  I'm proud of you all and love you more than my own life.  You are on my mind every day, even on those days when I don't seem to reach out to you the way I should.

I tried to choose an image from the singer's performance
that showed the inappropriateness, but was the least
crude in what it depicted.  This was the best I could
come up with.

After watching a video of this young pop star, I began to think about the condition of the world into which you will all one day find yourself released.  The moral codes, the political climate, the crime, the education, the economy... These are all things that concern a parent.  

I spoke to a young man with whom I work, and he made a statement that caught me off-guard for a moment.  In regards to the sexualized gyrations and skimpy clothing this young woman chose to display, he said, "Look, girls dress and act like that at clubs and bars all the time.  The only reason this is getting noticed is because there were cameras and media there."  It makes sense.  Her behavior didn't really shock young people.  It's us older people who are out of touch with the youth party culture who seem to be standing aghast at her antics.

Now, I spent some time in clubs.  But, that was years ago.  Things were a bit different then.  His comment made me realize just how far things have come since my earlier days.  

It's an age-old thing.  People who lack important life-nutrients always find ways of seeking those things out, even when they don't realize that's what they're doing.  Children raised without strong, loving, stable parents will find ways to seek acceptance that are often unhealthy.  It isn't a new phenomenon.  In this pop star's case, we see a girl who grew up with a semi-absentee father who (admittedly) wanted to be her friend rather than an authority figure.  She grew up lacking the leadership that comes from a healthy relationship with a father. 

Not only that, but this beautiful young girl grew up in an affluent family, surrounded by people who constantly told her how great she was.  It's the way Hollywood works.  We build people up to the point of ridiculousness, then we criticize their every move.  We celebrate their external aesthetic features rather than focusing on the inner qualities that make a person great.  It's a superficial, topsy-turvy process that leaves countless unprepared young people destroyed in its wake. 

You are my children.  You are my sons and my daughter.  I love you with every fiber of my being.  And because I love you, I have a few things to say.  I am not perfect, or always right, or the smartest man in the world.  I am not infallible.  Sometimes I blow it.  Sometimes I make a fool of myself.  However, here are some promises I make to you:

I'm not always going to tell you what you want to hear.  Though one of the greatest joys in my life is to see your smile, that joy is outweighed by the joy of seeing you make wise decisions.  Those wise decisions will cause you to experience long-term fulfillment and to have a solid reputation that will serve you well throughout your life.  So I might adamantly disagree with you.  Please understand that the starting point of any discussion we might have is I love you.  Those three words are the foundation of every conversation we have.  I would rather anger you by telling you the truth than to stand back and watch you walk headlong into an oncoming railroad train.  So, expect to be angry with me from time to time.  I promise, it's for your own good.

I promise you will never have to wonder if your father loves you.  I may not always be good at showing it, but I will do everything in my power to solidify the fact in your mind.  I would give up my life for you.  I want nothing more than to spend time with you and to see you live a happy life.  My entire existence is committed to helping you do better in this world than I have done.

I promise to always listen.  I know it might seem awkward to talk openly with your father.  I know your friends might not understand your ability and desire to unashamedly discuss things with your father, but I want you to know that you can.  I promise to let you say what's on your mind and heart, and actually think about things from your viewpoint before I respond.  I can guarantee it won't always be easy for me, but I will do it because what you have to say is important and does have validity.

I promise to not always let you have your way.  The old phrase "as long as you live under my roof" will be in full effect here.  You see, I bear a responsibility in the eyes of God to raise you to be godly adults.  Godly adults are not self-centered, materialistic, lazy, or disrespectful.  I've been all of those things at one point or another, but God has changed me.  My job is to model a godly attitude to my children and require godly behavior in my household.  

I promise to celebrate your achievements.  When you go above and beyond what is required of you, I will celebrate in ways that will be obvious and probably a little embarrassing. I won't throw a party every time you pass a class or every time you clean your room.  I will, however, make an absolute spectacle of myself when you demonstrate your skills, talent, fortitude, and passion.  People who are celebrated when they do their jobs rarely have an incentive to excel.  Not everybody who plays a sport is a winner.  Not everyone who shows up for work deserves a promotion.  It is when you put in extra effort and reach beyond the basic requirements of a situation that you can achieve greatness.  I will lavish you with praise when you do something honorable, difficult, selfless, or creative.  Do something that demonstrates the greatness within you.

I promise I'll always be there for you when things don't go your way.  Even when you've done what we all do, making dumb choices, I'll be there.  There is nothing you could possibly do that would stop me from loving you.  I will always stand ready to be a shoulder to cry on when your world crumbles.  I'm not just your dad when things are good.  I'm your dad.

I'm far from perfect.  I'm no superhero.  But I will move heaven and earth to be what you need in a father.

I want you to see that your value lies not in the performances you put on for other people, but in the character you display when no one is looking.  I want to show you that you don't have to lower yourself to others' standards in order to be accepted.  I want to teach you to be so connected to true love that you immediately recognize the myriad counterfeits the world will throw your way.  I want to point you to the Truth that comes from above rather than settling with the perceptions of man.

I love you and always will.

Dad

Everything Changes...

I'm sitting on my couch with my five-year-old stepson.  He's watching A Dolphin's Tale on DVD, wearing his Avengers pajamas and holding his lavender bunny.  I'm watching my wife.  She's lying on the loveseat deeply engrossed in whatever is on her cellphone's screen... probably Pinterest or something.  (Insert imaginary photo here.  You know, the photo that I just secretly took but am terrified to post without her permission.) Yep, she just texted me a photo she found on Pinterest.

It's moments like this that burn themselves into my mind with the intensity of white-hot steel, leaving indelible memories like the marks my old wood-burner left on pieces of pine during my youth.  These are memories cemented to my soul by the strongest adhesive ever--emotion.

My beautiful wife and I are expecting a baby.  She was actually due five days ago.  

This has been a rough pregnancy, with multiple trips to the emergency room and not a small amount of stress.    For the past week my wife hasn't been able to move the left side of her face due to the sudden onset of Bell's Palsy, adding substantially to Krystal's discomfort and stress.

Tomorrow everything changes.  Tomorrow the doctor will induce Krystal.  We're not sure how we feel about the induction, but considering some of the difficulties Krystal has been facing, the doctor thinks it's a good idea.

So, tomorrow we will finally meet our little Palin Nichole face to face.  Tomorrow will be her birthday, and my heart swells with the possibilities.  We've talked to her, sung to her, rubbed her back (or whatever was protruding from Krystal's abdomen) and prayed for her.  We're thrilled that she'll be in our arms by this time tomorrow.

I think about her future.  I think of how she'll look and the smell of her hair.  I think about how she'll drool as she grows and begins to teethe.  I think of her school years and boys and high school dances.  I think about the gift I will give her on her wedding day and the heart-rending pain in my chest as I walk her down the aisle to give her to her husband.

I think about our little family unit, and how it will never quite be the same.  I think about that beautiful lady on the loveseat and this great little boy beside me.  I think about my sons in Nevada, Adam and Isaac and the bridges that are being rebuilt there.

Everything changes.  Tomorrow marks not only Palin's first breath of fresh air, her first glimpse of light, or the first time we get to touch her skin.  It marks a paradigm shift in our family structure.  Everything we've come to see as "the norm" changes tomorrow.  

And I welcome it.  

I welcome her.

Palin Nichole Land

On Being A Dad

I have two natural sons.  One born in 1994 and one in 1998.  These boys have grown into really impressive young men.  My oldest son has recently graduated high school.  He is preparing to leave for Air Force basic training where he'll begin a career serving our country.

My younger son is an accomplished drummer.  He's still in high school, where his people skills and personality are gaining him a lot of attention.  My sons are articulate, exceptionally smart, have great senses of humor, and are a lot of fun to be around.  I love these young men dearly.

My wife has a son who was born just before we started dating.  He is now five years old and he knows me as Daddy.  He's a talkative little guy whose dream is to be a superhero.  He says that his favorite superheroes are, in this order, the Incredible Hulk (because he has huge muscles), Jesus (because he's the strongest of them all), and me.  

My wife and I married last August.  She is a wonderful woman and a great mom.  She's done an amazing job with Tiegen, and we're very excited about the upcoming arrival of our daughter, Palin Nichole.  She should make her debut around November 13.

I recently got the opportunity to attend my oldest son's high school graduation.  It was the first time I'd seen Adam or Isaac in a very long time.  I'd like to be able to say that I had a major role in shaping these young men into the people they are today, but I can't.  I haven't been there for them as I should have.  Thinking of the time and distance between us tears my heart out.  I have longed for those boys every day since before they were born.  Being separated from them by an unpleasant divorce never altered that fact.  Anyone who is close to me knows that there are times when I would just withdraw into myself and sit in silence because I could think of nothing but my sons.  I'm so grateful for the opportunity to begin rebuilding the bridges that time and distance have eroded.  As I recently sat across a table from them in a restaurant, I see that these are fascinating young men who, even if I weren't their dad, I would want to get to know.  The depth of their thought processes and the warmth of their personalities move me.  There's a light inside them that draws people to them.

My high school reunion is this week, and I was asked to write a short autobiographical record of the past twenty-five years.  As I sat down at the computer and pondered where I've been and what I've done, the most vividly emotional moments were those spent with Adam, Isaac, and Tiegen.  Jobs I've had and places I've lived fade into nothingness next to the memories built with these three guys.  Going to a little northern Nevada county fair with Adam when he was very little, rolling down a grassy hill with Isaac in a park in Oregon, building a "fort" and a cannon for them in Alaska, and splashing in a little plastic pool with Tiegen on a hot summer day.  This is my highlight film.  I haven't always been the best dad.  I haven't been where I needed to be when I needed to be there.  But the love I have for my sons is beyond description.

In November, Palin Nichole Land will be born.  Once again I'll be blessed to carry one of my children with paternal pride and introduce her to the world.  Once again I'll get the joy of watching through new eyes of wonder as she discovers things we've long forgotten.  Once again I'll share the blessing of cuddling with my little one.  I long for that day, and fear it as well.

I don't deserve the blessings who call me Dad.  Adam, with his depth and compassion.  Isaac, with his humor and unnerving wisdom.  Tiegen, with his inquisitive mind and thoughtfulness.  And now, Palin, who won't call me anything for a while.  God has truly blessed me, and I am grateful beyond words.