The Heart of Jake: Raising Barbarians

So, as I posted recently, I am re-reading Wild at Heart by John Eldredge.

I love the stories that John weaves into the book... and tonight I had my own story.

Today was Aedyn's birthday and we spent most of the day out and about. As we returned home from our trip to Krispy Kreme for an after dinner donut, Heather and I heard from the back seat, "I have to potty!!"

We were only about half a mile from home so I asked Aedyn if he could hold it until we got home.

"Yes, I will go potty at home," he replied. But not more than a few seconds had passed before Aedyn informed both Heather and I that he would be going potty in the grass when we got home.

Needless to say we were both surprised by his statement. The only time Aedyn has ever intentionally relieved himself in the great outdoors was during a trip to Chattanooga with Heather last August when they had to pull over on the side of the Interstate.

Aedyn became more and more insistent that he wanted to "potty on the grass;" to which Heather said he would have to ask his Papa about that one.

As I was about to answer I first thought, "No he can't pee in the grass. He can walk the 30 yards to our apartment and pee in the toilet. What are we raising, Barbarians?"

It was in that instant that I caught myself.

The world barbarian is defined as uncivilized; an outsider. That is exactly what I want to raise.

Our culture tells young men that they are supposed to be safe, controlled, meek... that they shouldn't pee in the grass. But I want to raise my boys to be is something different.

I want them to be unaccustomed to the dull and dreary expectations civilization has for them.

I want them to be at home in the wilderness, to be an outsider to the world of "nice" guys.

So I let him pee in the grass.

The look on his face was priceless. You would have thought he had scaled the Matterhorn or wrestled a wild tiger into submission.

I had given him permission to be a man... a very small man, but a man none the less.

The Heart of Jake: The Wild Frontier

I recently had a conversation with someone at work about one of my favorite books of all time: Wild at Heart by John Eldredge.

What I came to realize in the course of the conversation was that it was time to read the book again, so I decided that a good way to process my way through the book is to blog about it as I go.

The very first thing that recaptured my attention is a section John calls "Westward Expansion Against the Soul."

As I read the words Eldredge has written about the feminization of masculinity in our culture I can see how the pressure around me tries to force me to be more tame, predictable, safe, sensitive, manageable, efficient, and all the other adjectives and labels we use to refer to the "nice" guy.

Just as our society puts unrealistic and damaging expectations on women to be perfect, I feel that there is an unrealistic expectation for men to be "nice."

Think about it. The highest complement we can dole out is, "He is such a nice young man."

But who wants a "nice" guy?

Nice guys don't make great men.

Being a father has been an interesting exercise for me.

I love my sons and I don't like to see them hurt, so far too often I find myself instructing and teaching them to play it safe. But often enough I remember that they are boys, that they will someday be men, and that to be the men that God designed them to be they will need to know their way around the wilderness.

The wilderness has a special place in the narrative of men.

Adam was formed in the wilderness.

God met Moses in the wilderness.

Jacob wrestled with the Angel in the wilderness.

Elijah sought God in the wilderness.

John the Baptist lived in the wilderness.

Even Jesus spent time in the wilderness before He began His ministry on earth.

And like these men, and countless others, I want my sons to know the strength that comes from understanding their "wild side." Heck, I want for myself to know the strength that comes from understanding my wild side.

As I continued to read through the words Eldredge left behind as a treasure map for men I found myself invigorated. It was as if the deep in John was calling to the deep in me and awakening something that had been dormant for years.

I started to see how I had let the "safe" back into my life in so many ways and how the real heart of God was to call me out of bondage and into His promise for my life. My problem is that the safety of my bondage is easy. Just like the Israelites who yearned to return to Egypt after God delivered them from the hands of Pharaoh, I wanted to go back to what I knew even though I knew it would kill me.

But that does not have to be my story.

I don't have to be led around in the desert for my whole life because I am afraid of the battle before me. I can make the choice to find God in the wilderness and let Him lead me where, when, and how He sees fit.

Helicopter Parents, and why I refuse to be one.

Helicopter Parents.

You know the ones I am talking about.

Constantly hovering around their child, ready to intervene should anything happen to their precious little angel.

The term "helicopter parent" was invented by Foster W. Cline, M.D. and Jim Fay in the book Parenting with Love and Logic: Teaching Children Responsibility.

In Scandinavian areas these parents a named curling parents (referencing the sport of curling) because they try to sweep any obstacles that show up in the child's path.

It seems that the term "lawnmower parent" is also used to indicate parents who mow over anything and anyone in their child's way in order to make a smooth path.

As a dad I am just going to say that this type of behavior is downright stupid.

I want my boys to grow up knowing that their success will rest on their shoulders and that if they want to make a name for themselves they need to get their rear in gear and make something happen.

Life is not always easy and it is not always fair, but it isn't supposed to be.

This may sound a little counter-intuitive, but I firmly believe that it is our failures that produce character and make us who we are.

When I look back on my life I see that it was not success that helped me grow and mature. It was not winning that makes us better, it is the struggle.

There are even examples in human physiology.

In weight lifting, the fastest way to build muscle is to lift until failure, or to lift a weight until your muscle literally gives out.

Don't get me wrong.

It is not that I want my boys to suffer; and if I thought that suffering was the end I probably would want to do everything in my power to protect them from the hardships of life.

But suffering is not the end.

I will teach my boys that failure is only what you make of it. That failing is not the end of the story if you don't let it be. I will teach my boys that failure is just one step toward success as long as they don't give up.

I will teach my boys that competition can be healthy for them even if they lose - even if they don't make the team.

Why?

I want my boys to grow in character as they grow in stature. Because I want my boys to become men, not just boys dressed up like men.

Because I don't want them to grow up helpless.

And that is why I refuse to be a Helicopter Parent; because I just love them too much not to let them fail.

Real men don't drink Shirley Temples.

I currently work in the food service industry, so I get some strange culinary requests from time to time.

These requests range from intriguing to down right disgusting, and some even make me a little mad. One of the requests that makes me a little mad is when a grown man orders a Shirley Temple.

Shirley Temple - the drink

For those who are not familiar with the drink, it is lemon-lime soda flavored with a little grenadine (cherry flavored syrup) and topped with a Maraschino cherry and is named after Shirley Temple, the curly headed child star of the 1930's.

In addition to being a bit of a pain in the butt to make, I find it down right contemptible that grown man would order a drink named after America's First Sweetheart.

Is it any wonder that Hollywood can't find any American actors to play superhero roles.

But what do you really expect when our men are sipping on Shirley Temples rather than pouring a more manly drink down their gullet?

My advice to the men and young men out there... order a real drink.

Not saying it has to be an alcoholic beverage, but if you feel the need to get all crazy on the mixed drinks can you at least wet you whistle with an Arnold Palmer instead?

Is that too much to ask?

The Media and Manhood: Gran Torino

The other day I was looking for a movie to watch and came across our copy of Gran Torino.

For those who have not seen the movie; see it.

The movie is rated R for language and violence, and the characters are definitely not politically correct by any means; but it is a great movie.

In the movie Walt Kowalski (Clint Eastwood) is a recent widower who finds himself living in a world that has changed a great deal while he remained firmly planted in 1950's America. He has a strained relationship (that is putting it mildly) with his two sons and seems to be haunted by the atrocities he witnessed during the Korean War.

As the movie plays out, Walt is surprised to find that he seems to have more in common with the Hmong immigrants who have taken over his neighborhood than he does with his own family. Through the process of a strange event, Walt finds himself acting as a mentor for the young man who lives in the house next-door.

What struck me most about the move, and particularly about the character played by Eastwood was the "realness" of the man.

Thursday Time Machine: The power of the budget.

I recently watched a video titled Dear 16-year-old Me, which made me realize that there is a great deal of advice that I wish I could go back in time and tell a 16 year old Jake. In light of that I have decided to devote Thursdays on my blog to the advice that I would give the younger version of me.

This week's piece of advice: The power of the budget.

One of the things I wish I had learned how to do better when I was younger was how to manage money.

The financial situation in my family growing up always seemed to be feast or famine. I did not learn how to set aside the extra in the good times to carry me through the bad times.

It was not until Heather and I started discussing financial matters prior to getting married that I realized how unhealthy my attitude was toward money. And the interesting thing was that I knew all the right things to do with money.

I knew that money was nothing more than a tool to be used. I knew that saving was important. I could spout off all the good advice I had ever heard in regard to money, I had loads of great advice from my grandfather on how to handle money, but my own financial habits were horrible.

One. Grey. Hair.

Today, as I was getting ready for work; I looked at the hair brush in my medicine cabinet and noticed something.

One. Grey. Hair.

Now, mind you, this is not the first grey hair I have found from my head. My wife was even gracious enough to point out that I have several on my head right now.

I think what surprised me the most was my reaction to this pigment-challenged hair.

I have always told myself that I will be one of those men who age gracefully and with dignity. No hair dye for this guy!

I tell myself I will wear my hair as a badge of honor, signifying I have been "there" and done "that" and am now equipped to guide others.

Ernest Hemingway

I believed (and still hope) that I would join the ranks of the well aged men such as Sean Connery, Sam Elliot, or Ernest Hemingway. But instead of feeling distinguished at the sight of that One Grey Hair I felt a little deflated.

Perhaps I figured that by the time I started getting grey hair I would have accomplished something great.

I always joke that with age comes wisdom, but sometimes age just comes alone. Am I afraid that I am getting older but not any better?

Please don't get me wrong. I am not depressed over a grey hair (or, as Heather points out, several hairs). Neither am I fishing for sympathy or words of encouragement. I am simply being honest about how I feel about getting older.

Or maybe I am just making a whole lot of fuss about a whole lot of nothing.

Yeah, so I am getting a few grey hairs. It happens. And so far I have been pretty happy with where my years have taken me.

Married to a wonderful woman. Father of two adorable little boys.

If anything, finding grey hairs on my hair brush should only be a reminder that I need to make the most of each day. Even if I do live a long life, it is easy to let so many days slip by unnoticed.

And besides, it's only one grey hair.

Chivalry is not dead, but it needs a little help.

Chris Hemsworth as "Thor"

Gov. Chris Christie

Recently I was able to take in a movie with my lovely bride, Heather.

We went and saw Thor, and what struck me most about the movie (aside from the fact that I wish my body looked more like Chris Hemsworth and less like Chris Christie) was how chivalrous the Thor character was.

At one point in the movie, Thor (Hemsworth) is telling Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) that he will return for her. As they stand face to face you naturally expect him to go in for a lip-lock, but instead he kisses her hand. Despite the fact that Foster ends up planting one on Thor anyway, I thought it was great to see such gentlemanly behavior displayed by a character that men will no doubt want to emulate.

Perhaps we will get lucky and young men who go to see the comic book hero action movie will walk away with a lesson in chivalry.

Is it too much to hope for?