Two Choices

Watching my two boys climb rocks a few weeks ago in Maine brought a profound sense of gratitude and reflection. Grateful to be their father. Reflective because I tried to understand how they see the world, specifically me, as their father, something I must admit I rarely ever think about.

As adults, our lives, rightly so, are filled with significant responsibilities, so it is difficult to stop and see the perspective that our children have towards us. As a parent, we do what we do, day in and day out, and rarely think about the impact our presence has on our children. We are the caregivers, the ones in charge, and we are certainly not their friends, at least not yet. That said, there was a moment on those rocks that struck me when I realized that I was making two distinct choices from their perspective. 

One day in particular, while they were climbing on the beautiful rocks on the coast of Maine, as they had been all week, they both suddenly stopped and turned back. Finding themselves out farther than they had been before, they both instinctively turned and wanted to see that I was watching them. Something very innocent and not out of the ordinary, yet, at that moment, it struck me. These two boys explored as boys do, yet making sure their father was watching, accepting, approving, protecting, caring, and affirming. Not their mother, but their father.

A mother’s love seems to be so much more primary and assumed because it is born within the womb. A mother’s love is foundational and transcendent. She is God-like for her children because she truly is the first to love a child literally from the inside out, producing a profound spiritual connection and security. (Which makes losing or never having this kind of love so painful and devastating.)

Then there is the father. The first “outsider” or “other” to be around. The first person in a child’s life who chooses to love you or not. Whoa. This is what struck me on those rocks and what made me pause so profoundly. As their father, I never thought about my presence to them as a conscious choice. And yet, for those two boys on the rocks, I was choosing them individually, something, from their eyes, I didn’t have to do.

“But Dad is that other in the house, at a greater distance. He does not ‘have’ to love you. His love is not inherently felt and drawn upon, like Motherlove. He must choose to love you! He decides for you, he picks you out, he notices you among the many. It redeems, liberates, and delights, therefore, in a totally different way. . . . That is the uniquely transformative experience of male love. It validates us and affirms us deeply, precisely because it is not necessary.”

Richard Rohr

Much has been written about the “father hunger” that we all have and the flourishing that occurs when that said hunger is met. Consequently, the “father wound” occurs when this hunger is not satisfied by the conscious choice of that “other” in the house.  

“It seems we cannot be ourselves, we cannot be our own man, or our own father, until we have been someone else’s little boy. We need him to like us, to bless us even after our mistakes, to enjoy our company, to tell us that we can succeed. The separation from the one who is the same as us (our father) is somehow even more destructive than the separation from the one who is opposite us (our mother). If manhood itself does not like me, then I’m forever insecure about my own. His affirmation is ten times more important than that of any other man, and of a completely different quality than the affirmation of a woman.”

Richard Rohr

Much like our own fathers and mothers, we try and raise our children to be responsible, caring, loving human beings. Of course, we stumble along the way, growing them nonetheless, to someday not need us. We do so, not thinking much about how our children view us because our attention is always on them and their needs. 

Then we get these little times of reflection. These beautiful little moments when the profound impact of our time and choices become visible. Times like I had on those rocks in Maine.  

I have to be honest; that moment scared the hell out of me. Because it was an insight I never thought of before from the eyes of my two boys. I guess I just took it for granted; of course, they would know I was choosing to love them individually every day.  

That said, each day is a new choice in their eyes…a choice that has profound impacts that go well beyond the rocks of Maine.