Chris.Gould.Is

Category: Fatherhood

  • Where Are The Dads?

    [Author’s Note: This entry was originally published on 8/6/2012 on BlogOfManly.com]

    This week, I have been watching some of the most amazing examples of God’s creation demonstrate their incredible skills in the Olympics. I must confess, this is the first year I have really watched the Olympics with more than a passing interest, largely because my wife loves watching gymnastics. NBC has really done a nice job of making the athletes more human, and I am really enjoying their efforts.

    So here is the scene: NBC is dragging out Phelps’s silver medal (#18) and gold medal (#19). Interspersed with Phelps’s races, the focus shifts to the American women’s gymnastics team stepping up and owning the floor. During the whole production, I find that I am enjoying the images of the parents of the athletes, sharing in their children’s agony and joy. I love the stories of how the athletes came to be where they are, the incredible level of focus, determination, and willingness to sacrifice for a greater good that they all exhibit. I try to put myself in the shoes of those parents, looking at my own children, wondering if I would  have the strength and stomach to support them chasing a dream like the Olympics. There is no question that climbing to that level of competition requires a commitment of time and money for which few have the fortitude.

    Then a commercial break – and the Proctor and Gamble commercial saluting Moms plays again. It is a really good commercial, and fun to watch. I think there are at least four different versions, and all tug at the heart strings. I love the people stories!

    But then I got mad. Really mad.

    Not because Phelps should have taken one more stroke in the 200 fly, but instead glided to the wall and took silver.

    I was reflecting on being a parent of an Olympic athlete, and the imagery of the parents of the athletes. And then it hit me that the parents shown are predominately mothers only. And I began to wonder, where  are the dads?

    For these athletes, this competition is likely the most important event in their life to date! How could any father choose to miss this? I understand that life happens. So maybe the missing dads have a legitimate excuse for not attending. But I guarantee I would move heaven and earth to support my child at any event that was important to them, much less the OLYMPICS.

    Now let me be clear, there were some dads clearly in attendance, so please don’t miss my point here. The message clearly transmitted by the imagery and commercials is that the moms are what count, and seeing a dad in attendance (or by himself) is an anomaly.

    So back to the P&G commercial. Mothers are critical in the lives of their children, there is no question. But fathers are critical too, and in some circles considered to have a larger impact than the mother in the life of a child. I’m not bashing single mothers – they are incredible women to take on the responsibility all by themselves. But I am mad that P&G isn’t airing an analogous commercial for dads. Fathers teach their children to trust, how to control their strength, how to live with integrity, and what to expect from their own marriages, among other things.

    Chewing on all of this, I begin to think about the impact that a missing dad might have on a budding athlete. How many of these athletes might be at the Olympics because they are driven for a measure of love and acceptance that they never received from their dads? How many might be trying to prove to their missing dad that they have value and worth? That they are capable and deserving of love and affection? Is it possible that for some of these athletes, the Olympics is a demonstration of the lengths they will go to in order to find respect and acceptance? To forsake everything for a chance to stand atop a podium and be awarded a medal, for all the world to see? To be loved and adored by the entire world? What will it benefit an athlete to gain the whole world, if he loses his soul?

    My heart breaks for any athlete, and in fact any human being, who feels they must sacrifice themselves on the altar of the world to try and find the love, affection, and acceptance that their own dad should have given them. Because let’s be honest, every human had a father at some point.

    If you are in the unfair position of not having felt the love, affection, acceptance, and respect from your father, take heart! There is a Father who wants to provide all of that and more to you! He *already* loves, affirms, accepts, and respects you, right where you are! There is a reason God has man refer to him as “Father” – because that is the role He can fill in your life. Cry out to God and let Him fill you up!

    If you are a father, you must accept responsibility for your influence on their lives! You get the choice whether to fill them with love, respect, affirmation, courage, strength, and confidence – or not. Whether or not you had any desire to be a father, God has called you into this role, so you must man up, put on your big boy pants, and make the right choice. Being a father is a privilege and a blessing!

     

  • But Why?

    [Author’s Note: This entry was originally published on 8/27/2012 on BlogOfManly.com]

    My daughter is a beautiful little girl. Sadly, she has an ugly habit that drives my wife, Maria, and I to near tears at times. No amount of admonishment or threat of punishment stems the flow of this vile behavior, especially when she is tired or in a mood. At times, it is enough to make me scream!

    So what is this terrible habit that a 3 and a half year old has that could possibly be so skull-crushing? Why, she insists on asking “why?”

    Let’s be very clear, she isn’t asking because she really wants to understand better. For instance, yesterday, Olivia and I were preparing to go to the store for groceries. Her video had finished and I was finishing up balancing our checkbook. She asks me to start another video, to which I respond “No, we are about to leave for the store.” Her predictable response? “But wwwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyy!?!”

    Although I don’t think my daughter has a hearing problem, I am certain she has a listening problem. I’m also pretty sure she isn’t really curious as to my rationale for not starting another video. Truth be told, if she didn’t throw such a fit when we have to stop a video in the middle, I WOULD start another.

    It is a sad irony to me that Maria and I once opined that Olivia seemed late in starting the “why” phase, and actually worried about it!

    Let me pause and say that Olivia is a wonderful little girl. Frighteningly smart, but very courteous, sweet, and loving. She is very rules oriented, and, for the most part, easy to parent. And I adore her. This rant is starting to sound like she is a brat, but alas, she is simply 3 and a half years old. If you have or have had a 3 and a half year old, you know exactly what I am talking about.

    So this morning, at 4:36 am, my son screams. He apparently likes to do this between 3:00 and 5:00 am virtually every day. I’m not sure why, because if I was, I WOULD HAVE ALREADY FIXED IT. But let me just say how much Maria and I enjoy this particular alarm with no snooze button.

    Maria and I get out of bed, and I agree to change his diaper while she will feed and get him back to sleep – the far more daunting task, to be sure. I change his diaper, and return to bed, but I am loathe to go back to sleep for fear she will need something and I won’t hear her. Since this painfully early alarm has been happening for a while, our process has evolved such that neither sleeps until the boy does, in case the other needs help.

    So I say a quick prayer, telling God that I know He is in control and that this serves His purposes, but could He please help me understand why we are continuing to fight this battle with Samuel? I begin reading on my phone, first email, then Facebook, then a daily devotional, ooh a new email, and then I open up iBooks. I recently read Francis Chan’sForgotten God, which I loved. So I started to read Chan’s book,  Crazy Love. In the middle of the first chapter, God thumps my gourd again.

    Could it be your arrogance that makes you think God owes you an explanation? – Francis Chan, Crazy Love, Chapter 1

    Yeah. Snap.

    And God kindly brought to mind my frustration earlier with Olivia asking why I wouldn’t turn on another video. I don’t know why we are still fighting with Samuel to sleep through the night, despite his being 10 and a half months old. And I know that it is ok for me to ask God why. But it is awfully arrogant to expect Him to explain it to me. And for me to pout because God won’t give me my way.

    When Olivia asks me why, I will generally try to explain it to her. But many times I marvel at how to summarize all I have learned about the world, and all that I believe about how to manage her health and development, in a manner that her 3 and a half year old mind can possible comprehend. But I can only imagine it is the same for our God – He created the entire universe, including our very bodies! He is timeless and unchanging. How can He possibly simplify what He knows and why He is allowing something to happen to someone who has only been alive and aware for 31 years?

    God knows there are times I get so angry at what is happening, like Samuel not sleeping, and, in these instances, I demand answers from God. Just as I know Olivia gets mad and frustrated when she doesn’t get her way. But God’s thoughts are not my thoughts, and His mind is not knowable by my mind. I know God knows and wants what is best for me, as I hope Olivia has the same trust in Maria and I. But clearly I forget or ignore that trust in times of trial.

    So where are you in the level of trust you place in your Creator? Do you count it all joy when you face trials? Do you take comfort in knowing that the same God who created and controls everything loves you enough to have His own Son killed in order to be able to reach you? Yes, God is either permitting or causing your current circumstances. But He is only choosing for you what you would choose, if you only know what He knows.

  • The Journey To Manhood

    [Author’s Note: This entry was originally published on 7/9/2012 on BlogOfManly.com]

    [Blog of Manly is happy to introduce Chris. We’ll let him tell his own story, but we wanted to express our excitement to have him on board. We put Chris through the ringer! We asked a lot of questions and offered a lot of feedback. He handled the process like a man of integrity and courage. We think you’re going to enjoy getting to know him too.]

     

    When my beautiful wife, Maria, and I first got married a little over six years ago, I had problems. Problems such as believing that climbing the corporate ladder would fulfill me; an insatiable drive to be perfect fueled by a fear of ever being wrong; no idea what it meant to be a man, a husband, or the leader of a household; no relationship with God of any sort; and perhaps most insidiously, a serious addiction to pornography.

    I had (have!) a beautiful wife, a good, upwardly mobile job, a good education, a strong work ethic, and was killing it in the success category. I was sensitive and loving, not markedly male in the caveman sense, supportive, nurturing, and feminine. I could cook, clean, iron, and do laundry. In other words, I was the stereotypical man as defined by our society. But, I honestly questioned whether I was actually a man.

    I thought I was happy.

    Here is the dark reality: Maria did not feel secure, because I was not leading our household; our sex life was unsatisfying because I was addicted to porn; and in general, my life was happy at times, but joyless.  We put on a good show, but we were both miserable and hurting. Neither of our needs were being met, and we were clueless as to how to change our marriage. We were committed to each other, but we both knew our marriage was hurting.

    We had planned when we got married to have children, once we had reached a certain level of financial stability. Certainly, since our marriage was hurting, having a child would make it better! So after we had been married a little over 2 years, Maria got pregnant.

    Thankfully, during Maria’s 7th month of pregnancy, God rocked my world.

    Let me back up some, and give you some of my back-story.

    See, I had been raised in the church – my dad was a music minister at the local church for a dozen or so years of my life. I gave my life to Jesus and was baptized when I was 8. But, due to some drama in that church around the time I was 16, we stopped going to church entirely. At 16, I wasn’t real inclined to get up early on Sundays anyway, so I wasn’t particularly broken up. Fast forward to college, and I majored in engineering, where things are so well understood and cut and dried that there is no room for God – of course, that is a fallacy. But, at the time I was not looking to find God in my world. For approximately eleven years, I had avoided God.

    Now, back to our story previously in progress.

    Here are some truths about having a daughter that all men must recognize, regardless of whether they have a faith in God. Men, your daughters will use you as their template for their future husbands. They will use how you treat their mother as a playbook for how to expect their husbands to treat them. Therefore, if you love your daughter, and want her to have a happy, healthy marriage someday, then you need to take a hard look at your marriage right now. You create your daughter’s self-image, and teach her to trust. You will decide how susceptible she is to the wiles of boys, based on how much you reinforce her self-concept and confidence as you raise her.

    I knew these truths, and none of that was enough to really cause me to seek God. The truth that rocked my world is that I, and you men, as a father, am the template my daughter will use for GOD.

    For GOD!

    God refers to Himself as our Father, and I would be the only Father that my daughter would know.

    Here is why that rocked my world: I didn’t have much if any faith at the time, but I knew my life was not even a shred of a reasonable representation of God, whether I believed He existed or not. And I decided in that instant that I wanted to be the best representation of God to her that I could possibly be. But, I also realized that I was powerless to get there on my own.

    At this point, I was knocked on my butt. That is when I mentally kneeled before God (I was driving at the time!) and begged Him to change me.

    The moment of submission is how my journey began. Today I stand before you a changed man, no different on the outside (except a little heavier), but completely different on the inside. I’d be lying today if I told you that I am a perfect Biblical man, husband, father, son, employee, friend, or brother.  But I am certain that I am a man and that I am learning to fill these roles better as I journey on.

    I have learned and experienced so many things about my relationship to myself, my wife, my children, my God, and my world! I have overcome my addiction to porn. I have a fulfilling sex life with my wife. I have found joy in my life, largely independent of my circumstances. I am learning to take risks (you are reading one!). Maria has told me that I love and accept her like Jesus would. I am a work in progress, broken but not devastated. Every day I try to focus on being better than I was the day before. And I love my life!

    I won’t promise that I can teach you any of these things, but I do promise to work at sharing everything I am able. God has shown me that I have a heart for helping men find peace, confidence in their manhood, and understanding what being a man of God looks like. I hope you will walk with me in this journey of Manhood!

  • The Characters

    I tend to use people’s names in my posts without much explanation or context, so I wanted to provide a quick reference to who plays what role in my life story.

    Maria – my lovely wife! My champion, cheerleader, sparring partner, and best friend. I could fill this page with sweet words to describe my wife, but you’d all stop reading before you got to the next person. Suffice it to say that I love Maria more than my own life.

    Bonnie – my life coach of 5+ years, at the time of this writing. Bonnie has been an incredible resource on my journey, and has been instrumental in helping me grow.

    Olivia, Samuel, and Isaac – my three beautiful children. They will certainly appear from time to time, as they have taught me more about myself and God than probably anyone else on this planet!

  • What Are You Called? – On Names

    I had an interesting revelation tonight about the Biblical habit of changing people’s names. You know what I’m talking about, Saul to Paul, Simon to Peter, Abram to Abraham, etc. I’ve always had a thought land mine buried in the back of my brain about why that practice seems to have stopped. After all, when I came to faith, or even came *back* to faith, Jesus didn’t send me an email telling me my name was now “Thomas” or anything.

    Source: http://gratisography.com/
    Source: http://gratisography.com/

    That’s one of those Biblical questions that crops up from time to time, but I never seem to make any particular headway on it, so I let it lie.

    Tonight, I had the pleasure of attending FOTP’s Man Church. Besides the ridiculously tasty smoked brisket, I heard a message on names. Specifically, the name we are all given when we accept Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior – “son of God”. I’ve heard that before, as you likely have.

    However, what struck me was the idea that when these men’s names were changed, the new name had a meaning. Now, their old names also had meanings, of course. But the point is that their new names were titles, labels, descriptors of what these men would go on to do, on behalf of God.

    At least in American society, we don’t name people that way any more. Sure, names will be family names, or significant figures, but certainly the average boy in the US isn’t named “Great Father” (Abram) or “Jokester” (Jacob). Many are named Biblical names, but even then it is fairly rare, I believe, to pick the name based on the Biblical meaning, versus the Biblical figure the name represents.

    Which brings me back to my realization, if Jesus were sitting next to me right now (which I hope I’d 1) realize and 2) not be busily writing this!), He wouldn’t change my name to “One Who Writes Occasionally” or “Fun Father” – no one would take me seriously. So that’s why the renaming practice has died out, at least in the US. It may very well still take place in other parts of the world, and I may simply be showing my ignorance – if so, my apologies!

    So what, right? What really hit home for me tonight is that Jesus *has* given me new names, I just never thought of them that way. “Husband” then “Father”, many times “Friend”, at least once “Son”, certainly “son of God”, and now, as I am hesitantly embracing, “Writer”.

    In short, I had never thought of the new names handed out in the Bible as job descriptions, but they most certainly were! As I reflect on my life, I see my new names too. Each one represents a turning point in life, not necessarily an entirely new direction, but more likely a refinement of my trajectory, towards where ever God has designed me to go.

    In an interesting way, I have an easier time with the name of “Writer”. I have been struggling for a while with that title because writing comes easily to me. I’m sorry to anyone who reads my work and assumes it takes me hours and days of slaving over the keyboard – it doesn’t. I’ve written this in under an hour, even stopping in the middle to console an upset toddler – there’s that name again, “Father”, or as he calls me, “Daddy”.

    I am a writer. God has given me this talent, I know not why. But rather than feel guilty for having it, which is what I have been doing, I understand now that it is a gifting from God, and thus if I feel guilty about it, it should be because I am squandering it out of fear.

    I am a Writer.

  • Crapping Diamonds – Coping with Tension

    This morning I took on feeding the kids and prepping them for school, while Maria got ready so that she could attend a PTA meeting. I’m not looking for kudos, just laying the groundwork.

    My kids were, at best, jerks this morning. Samuel was up at 6:30, even before Olivia made it to the kitchen for breakfast. Mind you, Olivia’s school starts at 8, Samuel’s at 9, so this was *early* for him. Isaac came out around 7, probably in the best mood of the three.

    I got all three breakfast, and was starting on lunches when Maria came out. I was already tense at this point, juggling making their breakfasts with tending to their requests for more cereal, milk, a unicorn, Samuel making goat sounds, Olivia dancing in her chair, and Isaac wearing his (thankfully dry!) bowl as a hat.

    By 8:15, Maria has left to drop Olivia off and go to the PTA meeting. I’m cleaning up Isaac, and trying not to tell Samuel to go crawl in a hole and leave me be. I start up a video, and run through the shower.

    At 8:45, I’m dressed and ready, check Isaac’s diaper, comb hair, put shoes and socks on, and load up the boys. I get them both checked in, unloaded, and signed in to class by 9:10.

    And I am ready to crap diamonds, I am so tense. Maria makes this dance look easy, but I know the truth, that she works very hard to get all three kids up and out like this. Most of the time I am sheltered and simply have to worry about getting myself ready for work, and pitching in if there is a need. I am not used to this, and it takes a lot out of me.

    So as I pull into the driveway, I’m wracking my brain about how to blow off some of this tension. I want more than anything to gorge on sweets this morning – pop-tarts, candy, whatever – and eat my feelings. But I know, and have done that often enough, that it won’t actually help or make me feel any better. So I nix that idea.

    And that’s what led me to writing this. Writing is cathartic for me. And the hope that maybe someone else will see a little of themselves in this struggle, and choose to embrace their passion for a few minutes rather than some unhealthy means of dealing with their tension, makes this worthwhile. At this point, I’m tense, but markedly less so.

    I hope you read this, and it makes you smile. And if you are struggling with something today, you are welcome to steal my phrase, “crapping diamonds” to describe your level of stress!