"Someday, son, this will all be yours..."

The very moment I laid eyes on my sons it felt as if a new, tender part of my heart was realized. When the doctor pulled them from Donna’s gut, I held my breath. My eyes grew wide at the sight of them and I felt my heart grow “ten sizes”. Even though they were covered in womb-bits and goo, I loved them immediately. When the nurse put Jack in my arms, I was overwhelmed by a flood of emotion… love, awe, joy, responsibility, fear. It was quite a cocktail. The four years since have been some ride. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I grow to love those little monkeys more and more every day.

There’s a passage I’ve often struggled with since the boys were born.
Ezekiel 34:6-7 And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, "The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, 7 maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation."

I’ve contemplated this verse as it relates to my sons and to my father. I’ve already got some anger issues related to my dad and this passage doesn’t do a whole lot to assuage them. (I have to be careful here. This isn’t a “poor me” lamentation. I’ve had a very blessed life and a mother that more than made up for my father’s shortcomings. Rather, this is a segue into what I’m trying to glean from this passage.)

I don’t think I would have ever described my dad as the ideal father. I didn’t fault him for never coming to a football game I played in. I didn’t fault him for birthdays and Christmases passing without receiving a card or gift. I didn’t fault him for divorcing my mother and re-marrying a troll. I blocked these things from consideration in my attempt to have a relationship with him. I was the one who called to talk. I was the one who asked to visit him for the weekend. And when I did, I got the impression that the whole thing was kind of a pain in the neck for him. I recall one specific instance when we went to a sporting goods store to buy some cots for a camping trip we were going on. He selected two different cots, one costing much more than the other. When the cashier rang up the sale, she mistakenly charged him the lesser price for both of the cots. I drew her attention to the error and she thanked me. My father’s eyes poked daggers through me. On the way to the truck, he muttered with disgust, “Thanks, you just cost me twenty bucks!” That instance was typical of how he lived his life – looking for the easy way, even if it meant lying and cheating. I don’t ever recall him giving me any kind of instruction on how to live life. He had an attitude of, “Just go and do your thing. You’ll grow up and be fine.” It wasn’t until I graduated college that he actually showed some interest in me. At that point I had become an asset (free tax return preparation!) instead of a liability. Unfortunately, I felt little connection and my interest in him waned. Cat Stevens’ “Cat’s in the cradle” is especially poignant to me.

After my experiences with my father, I concluded that being a father is just one more thing on a life’s “to do list”:
Graduate college – check.
Get married – check.
Buy a house – check.
Have kids – check.
Get old – check.
Always drive 18mph with the left blinker constantly flashing – check.
Take a dirt nap – check.
Life complete.

When the boys came along (and I hate to use this cliché but it’s true) my world was rocked. Being a daddy isn’t something you check off a list. It isn’t like adding another layer to a casserole where all the original components retain their identity and are relatively unchanged. It’s more like adding cocoa to milk. It completely changes (and improves) the original ingredient. Or it should. I have wrestled with the fact that I was just another layer in my dad’s casserole. After having Jack & Joe and realizing the treasure they are to me, I’m crushed when I contemplate the low value my dad put on me. I alternate brooding over this and avoiding the subject because it is fertile ground for growing resentment. But if nothing else, it has strengthened my resolve to be a father who loves his sons the way a father should.

Anyway… back to the original thought. So the Bible seems to say, in a nutshell that future generations will be punished for a father’s sins. I’ve pondered how this occurs. Does it arise via some supernatural generational transfer? Or does it happen in a more mundane manner – i.e., a child watching his daddy in action and learning by observation? I’m still uncertain, but I think it’s probably a combination of both. We know that alcoholism gene can be passed to future generations so I think that the “supernatural” method is certainly possible. But I think a more probable way for this to happen is the observational manner.

After dinner on Tuesday evening, I took the boys for a bike ride. Though the boys are strictly prohibited from riding in the street, Joe immediately rode out into the street as a car approached. I sternly reprimanded him for this most serious of transgressions. He was pretty uninterested in my lecture, though, and rode away while I was in mid-rant. Bad move, Lester. We promptly returned home and he was grounded from his bike for the rest of the evening. This punishment was met with sobbing and great shrieks of despair. Just when my patience for his wailing was about at its limit, Jack piped up and said, “Quit bawling like a baby and go inside the house, Joey.” Though he was certainly just repeating what he’d heard before and pretty much took the words out of my mouth, I was stunned. What sounded just fine bouncing around in my own head sounded pretty awful when it came from the mouth of my son.

So that’s a prime example of how I think the sins of a father are visited upon his children. My kids watch how their daddy behaves and mirror it in their own lives. Fortunately, that mirror reflects back my sinful tendencies to me and helps me to correct them. I just need to have open eyes, an open mind and an open heart to see them.

The reality is that every family has a few “issues” that seem to be passed from generation to generation. It’s up to us to say, “This is a legacy I’m going to break. I’m not going to be unrepentant about this and in the process saddle my kids with the same burden I carry. I’m going to be honest about my struggle, I’m going to confess it and I’m going to work on it.”

Now, the flip side of this observational process is that the boys will also mirror the admirable qualities and behaviors I model for them. When I display kindness and forgiveness, they are kind and forgiving. When I’m loving, flexible and affirming, they are confident, content and loving toward others. It’s a pretty good system.

When I was a senior in high school one of my football coaches took me aside. He told me, “You’re the big man around here, Hoss. All those younger guys watching you are a big responsibility. Don’t blow it.” He then gave me a little poem. As applicable today as it was then.

There are little eyes upon you
and they're watching night and day.
There are little ears that quickly
take in every word you say.
There are little hands all eager
to do anything you do;
And a little boy who's dreaming
of the day he'll be like you.
You're the little fellow's idol,
you're the wisest of the wise.
In his little mind about you
no suspicions ever rise.
He believes in you devoutly,
holds all you say and do;
He will say and do, in your way
when he's grown up just like you.
There's a wide-eyed little fellow
who believes you're always right;
and his eyes are always opened,
and he watches day and night.
You are setting an example
every day in all you do;
For the little boy who's waiting
to grow up to be like you.