The house is quiet. And I'm finding myself in the middle of all together unfamiliar situation as sit here in the silence.
My wife took the kids (sounds strange to say that, as now we have more than one) to her parents for the weekend while I was faced with the delight-less task of covering some open shifts in my schedule at work this weekend. So now I'm home alone for the first time in a long time and have a chance for some solitude.
I have become so accustomed to the the chaotic loudness of baths needing to be gotten, bottles to be prepared, diapers to be changed, and the frantic urgency with which my marvelous bride and I get the "kids" in bed so that we can steal a brief moment to talk about our life, it's events, and this blessed adventure we find ourselves on, that when the quiet house loses it's novelty I find myself waiting with a faint, peculiar anxiety for my blessings to be safely back under my watchful care.
But solitude is a necessary practice for a man. It's healthy, I believe it firmly. A desire assigned by our Creator. Deep down there comes a point when a man needs to withdraw for a short while and think, and pray, and plan, and prepare so that when the delightful chaotic loudness returns he smiles and embraces it with great joy, and has renewed strength to meet the demands of such a rigorous task, trying to be the best husband, father, and strongman God's grace will allow him to be.
I wish all men saw a quiet house as a gift for service, and not an end goal.
As I sat alone at the family table tonight, I couldn't help feeling anger and pity for the men who desire solitude above all, and in doing so have impaled the well being of their own family with the sword of abandonment as a bloody sacrifice for their personal freedom... Or sat apathetically by while others did the impaling for them.
I am convinced that nothing is more frightening to a weak-willed man than love that requires a great deal of self sacrifice. Nothing will cause him to draw the sword of abandonment more swiftly, nothing will make him wheel it more recklessly, and nothing, sadly, can prevent his own family from being the first of it's many casualties.
Please Lord, never me... Men, resolve is yet another product of wisely used solitude.
Ten years ago this June I watched my lovely bride walk down the aisle. We said "I do", and "I" still "do". We've been fortunate to stay "in love" through want and plenty. But marriage isn't about love, it's about covenant keeping, it's about service, it's about sacrifice, it's about resolve.
My beautiful wife and I are the proud adoptive parents of two children. Our family was no accident, it was intentional pursuit, divine appointment, and more miracles than I can recount. And I'll admit three years ago, I didn't know what I was getting into, but we've burned the ships and are here to stay. My treasured girls came to me fatherless, and that fatherless-ness came to a dead stop when it ran into me.
Every night I spend a few moments lying on the floor after we turn out the lights while my oldest daughter tries to go to sleep. After about five minutes I lean over her bed, kiss her on the head and tell her "I love you, and I'm always going to be your daddy"... I say it with such deliberate conviction it's as if I'm trying to pour those words like medicine into the wounds she has suffered in her short little life.
"I do" and "I'm always going to be your daddy" - Increasingly rare and precious promises that require sleepless nights, long days, unmet ambitions, strong constitution, a shortage of solitude, and drawing your sword to defend your family, not murder it for selfish gain...
I challenge you, be the rare man that finishes the course of kept promises. You will not miss your freedom, but you may just, instead, find it.
My wife took the kids (sounds strange to say that, as now we have more than one) to her parents for the weekend while I was faced with the delight-less task of covering some open shifts in my schedule at work this weekend. So now I'm home alone for the first time in a long time and have a chance for some solitude.
I have become so accustomed to the the chaotic loudness of baths needing to be gotten, bottles to be prepared, diapers to be changed, and the frantic urgency with which my marvelous bride and I get the "kids" in bed so that we can steal a brief moment to talk about our life, it's events, and this blessed adventure we find ourselves on, that when the quiet house loses it's novelty I find myself waiting with a faint, peculiar anxiety for my blessings to be safely back under my watchful care.
But solitude is a necessary practice for a man. It's healthy, I believe it firmly. A desire assigned by our Creator. Deep down there comes a point when a man needs to withdraw for a short while and think, and pray, and plan, and prepare so that when the delightful chaotic loudness returns he smiles and embraces it with great joy, and has renewed strength to meet the demands of such a rigorous task, trying to be the best husband, father, and strongman God's grace will allow him to be.
I wish all men saw a quiet house as a gift for service, and not an end goal.
As I sat alone at the family table tonight, I couldn't help feeling anger and pity for the men who desire solitude above all, and in doing so have impaled the well being of their own family with the sword of abandonment as a bloody sacrifice for their personal freedom... Or sat apathetically by while others did the impaling for them.
I am convinced that nothing is more frightening to a weak-willed man than love that requires a great deal of self sacrifice. Nothing will cause him to draw the sword of abandonment more swiftly, nothing will make him wheel it more recklessly, and nothing, sadly, can prevent his own family from being the first of it's many casualties.
Please Lord, never me... Men, resolve is yet another product of wisely used solitude.
Ten years ago this June I watched my lovely bride walk down the aisle. We said "I do", and "I" still "do". We've been fortunate to stay "in love" through want and plenty. But marriage isn't about love, it's about covenant keeping, it's about service, it's about sacrifice, it's about resolve.
My beautiful wife and I are the proud adoptive parents of two children. Our family was no accident, it was intentional pursuit, divine appointment, and more miracles than I can recount. And I'll admit three years ago, I didn't know what I was getting into, but we've burned the ships and are here to stay. My treasured girls came to me fatherless, and that fatherless-ness came to a dead stop when it ran into me.
Every night I spend a few moments lying on the floor after we turn out the lights while my oldest daughter tries to go to sleep. After about five minutes I lean over her bed, kiss her on the head and tell her "I love you, and I'm always going to be your daddy"... I say it with such deliberate conviction it's as if I'm trying to pour those words like medicine into the wounds she has suffered in her short little life.
"I do" and "I'm always going to be your daddy" - Increasingly rare and precious promises that require sleepless nights, long days, unmet ambitions, strong constitution, a shortage of solitude, and drawing your sword to defend your family, not murder it for selfish gain...
I challenge you, be the rare man that finishes the course of kept promises. You will not miss your freedom, but you may just, instead, find it.
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