Stop & Enjoy It

Plenty of people miss their share of happiness, not because they never found it, but because they didn’t stop to enjoy it. – William Feather

Masterpiece That You Are

Drop the idea of becoming someone, because you are already a masterpiece.

You cannot be improved.

You have only to come to it, to know it, to realize it.

~Osho

Soundtrax

“Without a soundtrack, human interaction is meaningless.” – Chuck Klosterman

“Without music, my life would be without magic and color and dimension …”  ~me

Peace ya’ll,

~me

W.O.W. from a Recovering Father

I wish that I had read this on Sunday, because this would have made a great Father’s Day post! But since its only MONDAY (mostly) and we’re only talking a day’s time, read this AWESOME article by Alex Blackwell that showed up in my feed (I’m a little behind in reading my from my reader)!

Peace,

~me

Confessions from a Recovering Father

Written by Alex Blackwell

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. – Nadine Stair

I wish I could have a mulligan, a do-over, with being a father. I wish I could go back in time about 12 years and start again. I would have done it differently. I would have been a better father.

Last week was spring break for the University of Kansas. Caitlin, who will be nineteen-years-old in about a month, used her time off from class to accompany me to New York City. I attended meetings during the day, but my daughter and I were able to spend time together in the evening. It was a great six days. I hope Caitlin would agree.

When Caitlin was younger, my life was centered on my career and earning money. I didn’t want to be bothered with the details of everyday life such as helping with homework or being accessible to both love and discipline. I took good care of my family’s physical needs; just not the emotional ones.

My daughter quickly distanced herself from me. She craved my attention and wanted me to both love her and set boundaries and expectations for her. Caitlin had a simple and perfectly valid request – she wanted me to be an engaged and fully-present father.

When she was ten-years-old, Caitlin essentially washed her hands of me. She was tired of waiting and she was, I’m sure, tired of being disappointed.

The years which followed were strained and uneasy ones. She would only get but so close to me, before pulling away. Her trust was limited and very guarded. Time does heal most wounds, I would think, and given enough time she would come back to me.

Today, I have the benefit of looking at my past parenting mistakes through the lens of experience and humility. If I could convert the mulligan, if I were allowed to go against the rules and be allowed to take another shot, here’s how I would do it:

• I would stay at the dinner table 15 minutes longer and not feel compelled to rush to my office and dig into my work. I would use those 15 minutes to ask one additional question about her day, to provide the nurturing she wanted and to offer my help in any matter my daughter requested.
• I would insist my parents, her grandparents, treat her with equality and show her the same love and attention they showed my oldest child.
• I would set limits with Caitlin. I would remind her to watch her tone of voice with me and to show respect. I would clearly establish my authority as her father, but in a positive and healthy manner.
• I would volunteer to be her coach in soccer or softball. I would be the dad who would go from house-to-house collecting all of the other girls for practice and then go for pizza afterwards.
• I would sit next to her at night and review her homework. I would compliment the right answers and help her with the wrong ones.
• I would plan special times that only she and I would share. I would make myself available to show her that she was indeed just as special as the other children.
• I would tuck her into bed at night and help her dream and wish as we gazed up at the ceiling together. I would remind her to give thanks for the abundance in her life. I would kiss her good night and tell her how much I love her.

That was then. This is now.

Regret and shame keeps us stuck in the past. My time in New York with Caitlin was about moving forward; about how our relationship could improve and be defined using new terms and conditions. It provided a new start and hope for what might be next as Caitlin’s father.

The last night we were in New York, Caitlin and I shared a wonderful dinner together prior to seeing the Broadway musical A Spring Awakening. After the plates were cleared and as we were waiting for the check, I confessed to Caitlin that I do need to take full responsibility for the conflict and strain that existed in our relationship when she was a child and young teenager.

I made the commitment to continue to reach out to her and to make her a priority in my life. I confessed to her I was looking forward to our father-daughter relationship as adults.

She smiled and said she would like that very much. My daughter granted me a mulligan: a second chance.

March is a month for new beginnings and the promise of hope springing eternal. The flowers that once lay dormant under the cold, hard earth are now finding the courage and strength to re-establish their presence for the world to see.

I may have lost my daughter when she was a child. I refuse to lose her again.

Happy Father’s Day

On the topic of FATHERS…

“Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later…
that the man before him was not an aging father but a boy,
a boy much like himself,
a boy who grew up and had a child of his own

and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love,

adopted a role called Being a Father so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important:

a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities of life.”

~Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities

AND

“There’s something like a line of gold thread running through a man’s words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.”

~John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!