By Robert Clements
Choosing and Being a Good Father…!
Many single women the world over are adopting children and rearing them without a father. But at some stage they realize the child needs a dad in their lives, and in my imagination, they troop off in search of a dad. Here I am going to place such an imaginary scene where an actress goes over to the Institute of Dads and says, “Principal sir, I need a father for my kids!”
The Principal looks at her, wishes he were younger, but hastily puts aside such naughty thoughts and says, “You may choose! Here’s the first one; a bit domineering though!”
“Domineering!” says the actress, “that means he’ll bring my kids up with authority!”
“Also,” says the principal sadly, “he’ll think he’s always right! Your kids may feel crushed by his dominance, may lose interest, wait to be 18 to get away from the house!”
“Ouch!” shouts the actress and looks for the next man, “Who’s this? He looks charming and determined!”
“Will make you rich quickly,” says the Principal of the school of dads, “will see your kids have enough and more, but is deceiving and dishonest!”
“And my little ones will become the same!” murmurs the actress, then hears a noise in the next room where her children are, she walks over to see a man standing in front of the TV they are watching.
“If you don’t eat dinner you don’t watch TV!” shouts the tall fellow.
“What’s he doing?” whispers the ac-tress as she looks at her petrified children.
“Ah! That’s the threatening type, he’s always threatening to lock them up, throw away their TV or ground them!”
“It could be good discipline for them, what?”
“But with no communication whatsoever!” says the Principal sadly, “he won’t explain his actions; its threats, threats and threats!”
They go outside where she’s in time to see a man leave, he is good looking, wishes the children goodbye and smiles at her as he hurries off, “Wait!” shouts the actress, “You seem like a good father!” The man smiles and rushes on. “Too busy!” says the principal, “he’s a workaholic, a good man, with a good income, but whom your children will never see!”
The actress looks at the principal and bursts into tears, “Aren’t there men who make good fathers?” she cries.
“Oh yes, there is!” sighs the principal, “A wise father! A man who works hard, but has time for his kids, who is there to teach them to ride a bike, is there to lift them when they fall, and laughs with them when they get up on their own!”
“Am so glad this institute makes such a man!” says the actress, smiling.
“No,” smiles the Principal, “the institute doesn’t, but a good wife does, she moulds such a man to become a great father, just as a loving husband makes a good mother of his wife!”
Yes, there’s a lot of truth in this imaginary story isn’t it, but a good father also knows how good he is, when he sees the kind of love his children have for him later, and the prayers they pray for him. I remember my thoughts and feelings many years ago, when I heard my dad in the US was diagnosed with cancer:
“Dear God,” I prayed, “don’t do this to a man who hardly caused pain to others. A man who taught me to be brave in the face of adversity. To laugh when troubles assailed me, and yet to cry with others in sadness.”
I remembered days when even as a father with immense knowledge, he sat with me and listened to my half- baked theories, not laughing them away, but shaking his head and sometimes agreeing and sometimes discussing, but allowing me to grow as a thinker, and not a parrot vomiting out tested formulas.
“Dear God,” I whispered, “just put your strong arm around him and let him feel your strength. Let him put his head against that omnipotent muscle, and feel his pain disappear, just as he in my days of childhood held me tight when cuts and bruises and later emotional hurts racked my body and my soul.”
“Let him not feel the pain, dear God,” I cried, “shield him, just as he shielded his family from the onslaughts of the outside world. When cruelty and harshness, injustice and fear were stopped at the threshold and not allowed to enter, so that we inside, were nurtured in gentleness and love.”
“Let your heavenly friendship envelop him oh God, just as he became more friend than father as the years went by.
Two friends who walked in the cold impersonal streets of a foreign shore, watched the pigeons at Rockefeller Center and the waters of the Hudson. Friends who respected each other for what they were and a friend who did not try to forge me in his mould but let me blossom into my own form.”
“Dear God!” I shout, “why do good men have to suffer so? Why can’t you pick the cruel, the ruthless, the tyrants of the world, why pick a man for whom wonder was childlike, and for whom gentleness was a way of life? Why God, why?” I asked in despair.
I felt an arm around my shoulder. It was his, my father’s. I sobbed, unashamed, and then I felt his hand, wiping away my tears. I leaned against his arms, and slowly felt a peace. Somewhere far away, I knew my Dad had felt my pain, he felt not his own…..
“Dear God,” I had whispered that day, “be a Father to him, just as he is still a father to me!”
I end with this thought, that there’s a big role fathers have to play, and huge role mothers play, but together they can develop and mould children, who will grow up with character and courage, and finally pray to the Father above, even as we enter old age, to give us the same comfort and strength, we gave them earlier..!
(The Author conducts an Online Writers and Speakers Course. For more details send a thumbs-up to him on WhatsApp 9892572883. Email: [email protected])