What does it mean when you hear someone say, he was “just a man”? You hear it all the time. I’ve heard my friends say it, I’ve heard it on TV shows, and I’ve even heard my mother say it. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it is used by a child in reference to his or her father. I say this about my father all the time; he was “just a man”. What does this mean? How and at what stage of a man’s life does he earn this dubious distinction? Is it when you children recognize you for the flawed human being you are? Is it when you have publicly compromised and/or embarrassed you and your family? Or, is it simply when you become a father?
There are probably many answers to this question. One thing I’m sure of, it doesn’t happen before you become a father. Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not going to reflect poetically upon my days as a bachelor. I don’t suffer from any illusions. I recognize my limitations as a man. However, prior to the birth of our first child, only I knew any character flaws or weaknesses that I had. Sure, I was married for several years before Taylor was born. While my wife may bare witness to weaknesses in my character or deficiencies in my role as a partner, the reality is she is my spouse. It is easy for a person to explain away a spouses claims as “a relationship gone bad” or as “more my spouses problem” than mine. Not so with a child.
Children have a way of exposing a man for what he is. If you are a cold and distant person, if you are unsupportive father, a poor provider, if you do not take time to acknowledge and strengthen your relationships, these things will manifest themselves through your children and their relationships with individuals and their community. Every child is different so you don’t know where, why, how or when these issues will present themselves but rest assured, they will.
As a father, I am the model from which men are made in my daughter’s eyes. My relationship with their mother will help determine their idea of how a man should love, respect and support his wife. When the time comes, my girls could look for a man like “Dad” or they could look to someone who is my polar opposite. Much of this is based upon my relationship as a husband and a father. It’s an awesome responsibility and one that many men fail to recognize.
If I had a son, the one thing that I would share with him is the importance and responsibility of being a good father. I’ve been witness to the struggles of young, unwed women in our community. Even the “well intentioned” young fathers who believe that occasional financial support is sufficient to produce young men and women of character are painfully ignorant of the future they are helping to create.
As a father, my greatest hope is that my children will be better than me. Better people, better educated, better citizens, better connected to the environment, better in every way, shape and form. Providing the experiences and resources necessary to make this dream a reality has become an overwhelming obsession. But, I digress…
When does a man achieve the dubious distinction of being “just a man?” What does it mean when your children refer to you in that way? Usually, this term is used to excuse the challenges many of us face when trying to connect with our fathers. It’s a sort of “Parental Pardon” for fathers whose behavior was, at minimum, less than acceptable. A qualifying statement like, “my father was not a very affectionate person and we didn’t have much of a relationship but I’m not bitter, after all he was just a man” usually precedes the term. Or, “my father was abusive and my mom was often afraid for us. But, over the years I’ve come to forgive him. I realize he was just a man.” How often do you hear someone say, “ I forgive her because, after all, she was just a woman?” It happens but not nearly as frequently as with dads. That says a lot about our society.
I recognized my potential for being recognized as a mere mortal when my daughter, Taylor was born. The first time I held her, I realized that I could be exposed, naked to the world, for who I truly am. A good loving and supportive father or a distant dictatorial tyrant, my values and who I am will greatly impact the lives of my girls and their loved ones.
I don’t suffer from any illusions. I recognize my status as a mere mortal and my limitations as man. I know my girls understand that I am only human. But when all is said and done, I hope that my daughters have more to say about me than that.
I’m not sure what my father’s relationship was with my sister. I don’t ever recall him disciplining her; certainly not in the manner he disciplined me. I’m really thankful for that. However, I know that my sister attempted to establish a relationship with him after she married and had her son. My father never reciprocated and eventually my sister gave up her attempts to salvage the relationship. She was emotionally crushed by his lack of concern and his obvious unwillingness to acknowledge their connection. Sometimes being cold, emotionally distant and uncaring can be as devastating to your children as being physically abusive.
Today, my sister has moved on with her life and bares no obvious animosity. However, if I were to ask her how she came to grips with her relationship with my dad, I’m sure she’d say she forgave him because “he was just a man.”
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