I love having a girl. There is absolutely nothing in the world like it. When I get home at the end of a day, and hear her feet pat-patting down the hall, my heart smiles. When I hear her shout “daddy! daddy!” at the top of her lungs, I can’t help but feel great about the state of the world. She is sweet, and talkative, and fun-loving, and energetic, and everything else that is good in life. She is a blessing beyond anything I could ever imagine. After we had her, I told myself that I would be quite content with a house full of girls. And if things had turned out that way, I would have been more than fine.
But they didn’t. I also have a son. And while he is only 6 months old (not quite, but close enough, I am already acutely aware of the fact that things are different with this one. It’s not that I love them differently. It’s not that my emotional tie is stronger to one than the other. It’s much deeper than that.
The difference is the difference between raising a woman and raising a man.
I am of the conviction that you can trace the woes of any family, any community, and any state to the damage inflicted by either the absence of good men or the presence of boys who have yet to grow up. Too many times I have wanted to scream “For God’s sake, man up!” to a generation of boys in men’s clothing. It makes me sick, and it’s making our families sick.
And the bottom line is…it won’t happen with mine. It can’t happen with mine.
I look into the eyes of my son and I see the future. A future that is full of possibility, though not yet shaped. By the grace of God, he will one day put shape to it. But he will receive the tools for that shaping from me.
I look into the eyes of my son and I see a man. What kind of man I see will one day be up to him. For now it’s up to me.
I look into the eyes of my son and I see my family. My wife, my daughter, my daughter in law, my grandchildren. All influenced in one way or another by my son’s words, his choices, his actions.
I look into the eyes of my son and I see lives. Lives of people with whom he will learn, work, and play. Lives he will have the opportunity to touch. Will his touch be hard and unforgiving, or will it be gentle yet firm? I must make his hands ready.
Oh, God, do I need you now more than ever! To not only make me a man, but a raiser of a man who makes you proud.
