I'm just faking it.
That statement is certainly true, the whole " faking" thing, but it doesn't quite cover the confusions hiding behind all the coffee and donuts; it doesn't adequately address the few things that sometimes go well in a parenting style more in tune with unchoreographed Caribbean water spouts than binge watched episodes of Father Knows Best...
I think I know where I'm trying to go with this, but I'm not entirely sure that is where we are actually going to end up....
If you've read the blog before, you know what I'm talking about; if not, maybe a couple Excedrins might help the transition...
An extra cup of coffee?... I don't know...
The day before Father's Day, I awoke my eldest McMonkey from a deep and well earned sleep, on the last weekend before the last days of school.
At 6:00 am...
Nick hates getting up early, but he loves his dad, so he got up with much less goading than he usually requires and with almost no threats of frozen marbles being poured under his covers. I promised hot chocolate and bacon, to motivate.
Our Church has a "Men's Advance" every three months or so, a little pancake breakfast for the guys, both in and out of our congregation; a partial bribe with bacon and real maple syrup, sided with a bit of Bible and organized comradery... That's not how the flyer puts it, but I lost my copy of that, and have to wing it...
A friend and mentor who organizes the breakfast section of this, asked for volunteers to man the griddle.
Of course, I volunteered my son...
Like I said, I don't know much about being a dad.
It was easier when they were little; a few funny noises mixed with copious amounts of potty humor, and you get the best dad trophy every single day. They forgot the "No's" pretty quickly then, the giggles and laughter seemed to follow them around like happy confetti clouds.
No pimples, no hormones, no angst...
I never thought you had to raise teen boys; supply them with chips and meat and just let them run. Like dandelions, they will raise themselves...
Then again, I have vast arrays of personal cautionary tales to disprove most of the brilliant ideas I'd ever thought, thruout most of my life...
My kids think I'm a pretty decent father and the Wonderful Wife has reviewed me much better than I deserve. I'm faking it at this stage, with a lot of whistling in the dark.
An old proverb says that it takes a village to raise a child; I think that they have that half right. I watch my kids, teens, really, and see in all of them a foundation that started when a frazzled mom made long trips with infants and toddlers to a place that gave her a few moments of peace, and a few Godly women that let her know she was going to be alright...
Who gave suggestions, help and support.
You see, I would have used crazy infants and kids as an excuse to miss Church; she used them as a reason to go. I wanted to cuddle with my complacency, not challenge myself to be better; coasting was ok with me...
But I saw what happens when a women loves God, loves her kids, loves her Church and becomes part of it by showing up, serving and making a few dear friends. I saw the contrast most every morning, looking at myself in the mirror as I would brush my teeth, measuring myself by uncomfortable convictions that haunted me every time my mind quieted. Never once did this amazing lady guilt me or even point out my discrepancies...
She was overjoyed when I started men's studies at our Church.
I am so blessed to belong to a Church that supports men in their struggles to get this "Christian ", " dad" and " husband" thing right, that corrals us all together on mornings it would be much easier to sleep in.
So on the day before Father's Day, I am not thanking God for a village...
I am thanking Him for this Church.
I am thanking Him for men and women who are worshipping Him, building each other, while at the same time putting down bricks on bridges to eternity, for feet they most likely will never see...
Before we can help make the next generation better, we must insure that we, ourselves are walking rightly; we can't teach what we don't know or can't do...
That is what I'm working for, shooting for, and mostly faking.
The best gift I can give my young men is to show them my stumbles, bumbles and bounces in trying to increase my obedience by smidgens...
And walk beside them as they enter into the best struggle ever, on days they would rather sleep late...
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