Excerpts from

Becoming A Dad

A Spiritual, Emotional and Practical Guide

By Stephen James & David Thomas

Relevant Books

 

 

Fatherhood is Like A Roller Coaster (p. 5)

“Please remove all loose objects. Pull the harness over your head and fasten the buckle. The floor below you is about to drop. Enjoy your ride.” Those were the last words spoken before being jarred, flipped, tossed, thrown, and thrust into the open. That’s how my (David) experience on “Krackin” began. Krackin (a four star, inverted roller coaster) is one of the boasting points of Orlando’s SeaWorld theme park. One of the downhill cameras caught me with my mouth wide open, screaming with excitement and fear. I can still remember topping the first hill and that moment of being barely in motion before being thrust down the other side at light speed. The wildness of being flipped upside down with my feet dangling in the sky only to descend and be flipped again and again. (If I turn my head just slightly to the right, I can still feel it.).

                        I can also remember being seated in my kitchen with my wife sitting across from me. She slid a home pregnancy test across the table. Her eyes were enormous, and she could barely contain excitement as she waited for me to respond. I was breathless. I stared at the colored dot confirming our pregnancy and heard a voice say, “Pull the harness over your head and fasten the buckle. The floor below you is about to drop. Enjoy your ride.”

                        The experiences were so similar. I spent the next nine months (as I have spent the last several years) being jarred, flipped, tossed, thrown, and thrust into the open. It was, and continues to be, a wild ride. A ride that I love with everything in me and one that scares the life out of me. A ride that I have absolutely no control of other than buckling up and pulling down the harness. I have spent the last years of my life with my mouth (sometimes literally) wide open, screaming with excitement and fear.

                        The difference is that within a matter of moments, Krackin came to a halt. The roller coaster edged up a bit, and I found myself in the place where I had started. I hit the buckle, and the harness lifted. I reconnected with my rhythm of breathing, and I exited the ride. This ride of fatherhood has no exit. It is still going and going and going, and I am still screaming with excitement and fear. Many days I still feel inverted and thrust into the unknown. In the midst of it all, I have a lot of questions about what in the world I am doing.

 

Joy & Sorrow in Being A Dad (p. 36)

With all the unfathomable gifts and glory that being a parent brings, it is also crowded with considerable loss and disruption. For us men to successfully transition into fatherhood, we need to inventory the things that parenthood robs from us. Not until we count the cost of our losses will we be truly able to appreciate and accept the value of the gifts inherent in fatherhood.

The search for joy is a big part of life. The need for pleasure and contentment are core desires of the human heart. Scientific discoveries in human brain research over the last twenty-five years have revealed that we are chemically hardwired for two basic rewards: food and sex (Dupont 1997). There are more nerve receptors in the human mouth and genitalia than any other parts of the body. We are biologically designed to seek pleasure and avoid pain. More simply put, we are made by God for joy. This is true whether we are talking in emotional, spiritual, or physical terms.

If we are made for joy, why do we so often settle for getting by? Why are our lives filled with addictions, compulsions, disorders, and anxieties? Why do we work so hard for approval and acceptance? Why does shame tie us to the moorings of isolation and depression? Why do we feel so alone and empty-hearted so much of the time? It seems that God has placed us in a bind: If we are made for joy, why is life so full of pain?

 

“Be Prepared” for Parenting (P. 46)

Our cultural institution of American boyhood, the Boy Scouts, touts as its motto, “Be Prepared.” The positive impact the BSA has made to our society is far too numerous to begin to mention. This is an entire organization ordered around the idea of training and equipping young men to engage with confidence the challenges of life. In adulthood, many of us spend years in a university or technical school in order to get ready for a chosen profession only to realize that what we really needed to know in order to be successful we could only learn on the job. As men we have a deeply seeded need for feeling ready.

                No place is that as true then when it hits the core of our masculinity: sex. Viagra was the most successful prescription drug ever launched in America. Projected U.S. sales for 2004 were around $919 million. A similar impotence drug, Cialis, the “weekend pill,” guarantees up to 36 hours of effectiveness and generated $109 million in sales in its first nine months on the market. In 2004, Levitra was expected to bring in $174 million domestically. Prescription male sexual enhancement medication accounts for more than $1 billion in sales annually in the U.S. Any way you look at it, that’s big business. A glimpse at these numbers, tells us one thing for sure: men want to feel ready. (M. Herper and A. Lagorce, “Monday Matchup, Viagra vs. Levitra.” Forbes.com, 10/06/03).

                For his birthday one year, a friend of ours received fly-fishing lessons. Every week he learned casting from Chuck, a noted master fisherman. Practicing daily in his backyard, our friend became skilled in a variety of different casts. He soon invested in thousands of dollars of tackle: rod, reel, waders, shoes, vest, hat, line, and flies. He devoured book after book of his new avocation. As the spring approached, he planned his first trip to Montana for a week on the river.

                The time finally came. His heart was full of anticipation and excitement. Once on the river, he wadded out into the cold, hip-deep water and tied on his fly. As his arm found the rhythm of the casting motion he had practiced for weeks in the backyard, he saw a fish rise in a shallow pool on the other side of the stream. His heart began to pound as he let out more line increasing the distance of his cast. The air was still except for the sound of his rod and line moving in time overhead. Then . . . YANK!!! Surprised, he looked over his shoulder to find his line hopelessly entangled in the thick brush on the bank behind him. His only recourse was to cut his line and restring his entire reel. All his practice, preparation, and equipment had not readied him for the reality of being on the river. There were no riverbanks in his back yard.

                Every week, we encounter men in our counseling offices—successful, brilliant, creative, wise men—who are confounded by their children and their role as a father. We have worked with influential businessmen who successfully manage hundreds of employees every day but tremble at the idea of looking their teenage son in the eye. We have wept with stoic patriarchs when they have had to bury a newborn. We have helped men who have chosen to be so physically absent from their families that their own children have trouble recognizing them. We have sat with brokenhearted and confused dads as they try and navigate the stormy waters with a pregnant adolescent daughter. At some point all of these men in some way acknowledge that they were not ready for this.

 

Loving Your Wife Well (p. 83)

There is a better way. In order to succeed as both a husband and a father, you may need to search for a new entry into your wife’s heart. Often in this new season, the most accessible way to her heart is through the category of family instead of couplehood. By stepping fully into fatherhood, she will more likely be drawn to you and unified with you.

                To unleash the emotional and spiritual energy of our hearts on behalf of our wives and children requires love. And while love can be expressed in a number of ways, it always has four essential qualities. Love:

                •               delights in the presence of the other,

                •               has curiosity about the heart of the other,

                •               stands in the way of the other, and

                •               is willing to be hurt, but not harmed, by the other.

                Delight is intended to mean celebrating the presence and acknowledging the others impact on relationship and reality. An example sounds like, “You are a great mom. I love how you _______ with our child.”

Curiosity involves seeking to see and experience how your spouse is changing and being changed in the process. You might say, “What is this like for you honey? What about being a mom scares you? What excites you?”

This all sounds so simple—loving well. So why then aren’t we able to move beyond ourselves and be the husbands and fathers we long to be? Our entire struggle begins with one question: Is God really good? The ultimate issue in marriage and parenting is not a failure to obey God, but rather a refusal to believe in, account for, and receive His generosity. In refusing to believe that God is good we will disobey.

 

Be a Hero (P. 87)

While you may feel left out and unloved in the early days of parenting, there is a great relational opportunity for you as a father: being your child’s hero. Everybody needs a hero—especially kids. They need someone to admire, follow, and hope in. While your wife will probably be your child’s first choice to run to when he is hurt or sick, you have the unique position as his hero.

Last night my (Stephen) wife told me that she was talking with our daughter earlier in the day and they were working on finding a solution for some small problem when Emma Claire shouted out, “Mommy, let’s call and ask daddy. He knows everything.” While, this may not have been what Heather wanted to hear, she was wise enough to let my daughter believe in me.

Children want their father to be fun, strong, tender, and kind. For example, the other day I was working from home and had just finished a conference call. It was later in the evening and Heather was giving the kids a bath. I could hear laughter coming from the bathroom as I finished the call. Hanging up, I went into the bathroom to find Heather trying to convince them to begin washing. Upon my entrance, my children greeted me with celebration, cheers, and a lot of splashing. My response was to climb into the bath tub with all my clothes on. My son and daughter squealed with delight.

                There is a difference between heroes and idols. Heroes fight for justice and are compassionate. Heroes take risk and are brave. Heroes walk in humility and are modest. Idols are false gods and are powerless. Idols are propped up and are phony. Idols are made in the image of man not the image of God. Being your child’s hero isn’t about shoes you have to fill, because you are all ready in them. Your choice is to either stand up in those emotional and spiritual shoes or take them off.

 

Relive Your Own Story (p. 93)

Parenting affords us a chance to redeem our own childhoods by remembering our forgotten stories.  If we are really honest, we have to admit that most of us come from a childhood where heartache was present. Our life stories contain themes of abuse and abandonment; moments of shame and sadness; and tales of death and despair.      

                There is something so unique about the opportunity we are given in parenting to reconnect with our own experience of being children. For many, this reconnection involves sadness, hurt, and disappointment. For some, reconnecting involves remembering trauma or abuse. For others, going back is a more nostalgic experience of reliving laughter and enjoyment.

                As we live out our stories, we live out the stories of our parents. There is a direct link between our understanding of our own story and our experience in parenting. The more you understand of your own story, the more aware you are of what drives your response to your own children.

 

Failure and Fatherhood (p. 127)

Guilt, heartache, and impotence are essential elements of biblical parenting. No matter how well intentioned we are as dads, we will fail our children. Our mistakes as fathers will be physical. (I, Stephen, dropped my daughter on her head in Target). Our offenses will be emotional. (I snapped at my infant son who wouldn’t let me sleep in past 5:00 a.m.) Our transgressions will be psychological. (No matter how hard I try, I cannot be as consistent as I would like with my children). Our sins will be spiritual. (All of the above.) Everyday of our lives, we will fail our children. This will cause them and us heartache. (Sadly, most days we will do it more than once.) And the raw truth is, we are powerless to stop it.

                No matter how many books you read (and believe us we’ve ready almost all of them), no matter how many years of school you have, no matter how much experience you obtain, no matter how much (or how little) money you have, you cannot escape the reality that you will hurt your child—sometimes superficially, but sometimes the gash will be so deep that it may never fully heal in this life. Life is full of pain. And the majority of our children’s pain will come from the hands, heart, and head of us as parents.

 

Participation Vs. Activity (p. 170)

As men, we are creatures of movement. We often feel most engaged when we’re doing something, and we enjoy feeling productive. This is one of the reasons that the processes of pregnancy and parenting can be challenging for us. It involves a great deal of waiting. Furthermore, the participation doesn’t always lend itself to activity. Participation and activity are two different things. Sometimes participation involves activity but not always. Often it involves waiting . . . like sitting on a hanging curve ball just long enough to jack it out of the park. It’s in that space where challenge lies for us as men. As long as we’re doing something, we feel productive and purposeful. The challenge is that participation is more a process of being than doing. Much of pregnancy and parenting involve waiting. Waiting on this baby to come. Waiting on joy. Waiting to connect. Waiting on God to show up. Waiting on your child to learn through natural consequences. Waiting on the hope that you believe in but don’t yet see. Waiting and waiting and waiting.

                Participation goes hand in hand with the experience of parenting. For us as men, stepping onto the field is a part of our participation. Participation is also the activity you are engaged in at this very moment. Reading this book, taking a class with your wife, painting a nursery, researching pediatricians, investigating schools . . . these are all vital and important experiences. We hope you are a part of every one of them. But you must understand that sometimes participation simply involves presence. Presence with the belief that you bring something valuable and needed to this process.

 

January 2005

For more on Becoming A Dad by Stephen James & David Thomas,

contact Jana Muntsinger, MMPR, 804.754.2118 or jana@mmpublicrelations.com.