I've sporadically been reading a book about fatherhood that Lifeway gave away last year. (It was written by their new president and his son.) The chapter I'm currently reading addresses the topic of how quantity time actually yields to quality time, in the son's opinion. He claims that most important conversations happened after spending vast amounts of time together. There is something to be said for that.
In the father's response, he shares about a time when he missed an "important" event in a son's life: a home run. He was pastoring and working on a degree at the time, and took work to his son's ballgame. While in the midst of writing, he missed the big event.
Perhaps I grew up in a very totalitarian regime. We were taught early on in life that 1) the world does not center around us, 2) there are priorities to what we do in life, 3) keeping food on the table and clothes on our back {Dad's job, in other words}, were a top priority. I remember in high school band each parent was required to work the concessions at two football games. Those games the parents were allowed in free. I always hated it that Mom and Dad were so close, but couldn't see our half-time performance because they were working. But I also knew that what they were doing enabled me to be in the band. Otherwise we never could have afforded the expense. Dad did figure out that if he helped grill the hamburgers and hot dogs, he was usually finished in time to see us. Mom's who came to all the games would occasionally offer to let Mom go watch the half-time show so she could see us. Did I want Mom and Dad to see us? Certainly! But I wanted our lights to stay on at home more. Had Mom or Dad paid for the extra games to watch us play, that might not have happened. So after reading this passage, I'm wondering what on earth this guy was even doing at a ballgame when he should have been at home writing his paper?
I'm also puzzled by this whole premise that every single thing a child does or expresses interest in must be nurtured ad naseum. You can encourage a child without doting on him.
Most likely my parents would have done a lot more with us had they been able. But I wouldn't trade the checker tournaments Dad set up for us one vacation for anything. Or the board games at the kitchen table. No uniforms, tickets, rental fee, or transportation required. (But a good attitude was!)
I suppose it's a good thing we don't have children. People would probably think we were the meanest parents around. And by today's lax but hovering parental standards, we probably would be.
In the father's response, he shares about a time when he missed an "important" event in a son's life: a home run. He was pastoring and working on a degree at the time, and took work to his son's ballgame. While in the midst of writing, he missed the big event.
Perhaps I grew up in a very totalitarian regime. We were taught early on in life that 1) the world does not center around us, 2) there are priorities to what we do in life, 3) keeping food on the table and clothes on our back {Dad's job, in other words}, were a top priority. I remember in high school band each parent was required to work the concessions at two football games. Those games the parents were allowed in free. I always hated it that Mom and Dad were so close, but couldn't see our half-time performance because they were working. But I also knew that what they were doing enabled me to be in the band. Otherwise we never could have afforded the expense. Dad did figure out that if he helped grill the hamburgers and hot dogs, he was usually finished in time to see us. Mom's who came to all the games would occasionally offer to let Mom go watch the half-time show so she could see us. Did I want Mom and Dad to see us? Certainly! But I wanted our lights to stay on at home more. Had Mom or Dad paid for the extra games to watch us play, that might not have happened. So after reading this passage, I'm wondering what on earth this guy was even doing at a ballgame when he should have been at home writing his paper?
I'm also puzzled by this whole premise that every single thing a child does or expresses interest in must be nurtured ad naseum. You can encourage a child without doting on him.
Most likely my parents would have done a lot more with us had they been able. But I wouldn't trade the checker tournaments Dad set up for us one vacation for anything. Or the board games at the kitchen table. No uniforms, tickets, rental fee, or transportation required. (But a good attitude was!)
I suppose it's a good thing we don't have children. People would probably think we were the meanest parents around. And by today's lax but hovering parental standards, we probably would be.
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