As I got ready to write this blog post, I was hit with another reminder of my perceived inadequacy. Here I am, sitting at the soccer field, finally enjoying a REAL spring-like Chicago afternoon. Windows down, Chromebook on my lap, music cranked up, and then the battery dies. It is at this point where I entered into a frenzy. How am I going to drive my daughter and her teammates home after practice? We’re doomed! I did the only logical thing that I could do…I called my wife. Brilliantly, she told me to ask around for jumper cables.
Without fail, the first car I visited, the driver informed me that she can help me out of my predicament. As I popped the hood, I explained my situation and how I need to be better prepared for situations like this. Panic must have raced across my face as I blankly stared at all the buzzing parts and spinning belts. The generous motorist chimed in, “You don’t know how to jump start a car?” I responded, quietly, “No.”
We have all been in this spot. I failed. Whether it is not having an answer to a question, losing our cool in a high stress situation, or blowing off the demands from one of our children, it is very easy to get entangled in that momentary setback and allow our identity to become intertwined with our failure. I will argue that these moments of failure do not provide an accurate portrayal of who we really are as men.
Last week, school ended for our children. For our son who is in second grade, he returned home with an end-of-year memory book. My wife leafed through it, but one project stood out to her, and eagerly, she had to share. She quickly snapped a picture and sent it to me with the caption, “He really loves you.” I glanced at the photo and laughed. I told a colleague about it, and then quickly brushed it off. It was early the next morning when the gravity of the the picture finally made sense. I called him over before heading out to run errands and asked, “When you grow up, you want to be a dad?” Without batting an eye, he looked at me and boldly declared, “Yes. I want to be a dad, just like you, because you are the best dad ever.”
What if we viewed ourselves through the lens used by our own children or students? What would we be able to accomplish if we simply changed our perspective, even if for just a moment, to see ourselves through their innocent, yet biased, eyes? From his perspective, gone are my failures and inadequacies from the previous day. My boy doesn’t keep a record of how late I had been working at school to close out another school year. He doesn’t mind that I got passed over for a promotion. My son doesn’t recall my frustration when I tripped over the mess strewn across his bedroom as I tried to tuck him in at bedtime. He doesn’t even care that I don’t know how to jump start our van. All that he can focus on is the fact that he wants to be a dad, just like me.
Gentlemen. We’re all fathers. Whether it is to our own children or to young ones that do not share our unique DNA markers, there is someone that looks up to you, that admires you, and when they grow up…they long to be JUST LIKE YOU. Happy Father’s Day, men. Enjoy the(ir) view. You are making a difference.
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OH, I’m so glad I read your post this morning, Michael! First I read “perceived inadequacy” and thought – YES – PERCEIVED!! I’m so glad your own kin reminded you of how very awesome you are, my friend. We are all “inadequate” at many many MANY things (I know from experience), and I’m so very elated that you were reminded of all you DO do (hah – she said “do do”)! Your actions – large and small – MATTER – to SO MANY!
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Thanks for sharing, Michael. I have been in scenarios like that, and I am a far more critical of my failings than anyone ever could be. Much of what you wrote here resonated with me. Thank you for your perspective.
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