Father’s Day – JC Bowman

Children do not come with an instruction guide. It would be much easier if they did. So much time and effort go into child rearing. It is beyond a full-time job. Let’s be honest, being a dad is actual work—and it is difficult yet rewarding work.

Too many men in society today want the title of Father, but they want to put in the work of a part-time casual observer. Men who fail to invest in their children miss the wonder of life. The men will likely reap the results of that part-time status. If not in their lifetime, then in the lives of their children. It is a vicious and unnecessary cycle, that we perpetuate from generation to generation.

Too often, children are subjected to fathers who do not know how to love them, or who are just not there. The absent fathers and the emotionally distant fathers create more lasting problems, much more than physical abuse. Not that physical abuse is ever acceptable. Wounds heal, emotional scarring could last a lifetime—if you let it.

We know that childhood abuse and neglect, cause so many people to embark on lives of drugs or prostitution, sometimes even worse. The absent and emotionally distant father helps create adults full of bitterness and anger. A man who takes the title of Father seriously, helps create children that are confident and secure as adults—they break the generational curse of men who fail to father their children.

The writer and missionary, Floyd McClung, Jr., suggested that as people consider their past, that they “forgive their parents for their faults.” That is a deep thought. As I came to grips with my own strained relationship with my Dad, it made me realize that I, too, had my own short comings as a parent. Self-reflection is bittersweet, but necessary. Reflection benefits our souls.

You wake up one day and twenty years have gone by. I wish I had spent more time with my own daughters, listened more to what was going on in their lives, and been slower to criticize their youthful expressions of their generation. I wish I had held my children closer and longer. They were in a hurry to grow up, and truth be told, it was what I assumed was the natural passage of life. To take them into my arms as children again and sing to them in my off-key voice is a dream that can never be fulfilled. My children are what mattered most in the world, and while I was out making a living, I missed parts of their life—and deprived myself of enjoyment that was Fatherhood.

This Father’s Day, embrace your children for as long as they will let you. For those with a Father, forgive them for their shortcomings. The grace you give will return in your own children. For those without a Father, recall the good times, and work toward moving past the hurt and pain. You will not regret investing in your relationships, and few are more important than the image a child has of a Father.

Some of us still need emotional and spiritual healing, breaking out of judgmental cycles, and dealing with the inevitable disappointments of life. When we go through life with a distorted image of what a father is or what it means to be a father, it means we miss one of the most critical parts of our lives. We can grieve and fail to recognize our internal pain, or that of others.

We must acknowledge our life experiences for what they were, and recognize what should have been. Yes, life is unfair. All men may be created equal, but not all fathers are up for the difficult challenge of fatherhood. The good news is that if you are a Father or have a Father who is still alive, you still have time to rebuild together.

JC Bowman is the Executive Director of Professional Educators of Tennessee. Permission to reprint in whole or in part is hereby granted, provided that the author and the association are properly cited. For more information on this subject or any education issue please contact Professional Educators of Tennessee.

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I drew back my fist and tried to defend my mother after my dad had struck her numerous times. I don’t remember my exact age, but I was around 4 years of age. It is etched forever in my mind and fuels my abhorrence of injustice and deep respect of women. Sometimes I close my eyes and it is as if I am there again.

In high school, it was endless cycle of verbal battles—and I could give much better than I would take. My dad, Francis Bowman, was a tough man. He was the 11^th of 12 children of a moderately successful, yet well-respected father, who himself died way too early. It was hard for me to love him, yet other people told me stories of his constant charity and gregarious nature. He had a determined work ethic, often working two jobs, and he taught me to never expect to be handed anything in life. Certainly nothing would be handed to me under his roof. When I was 17 it escalated and he finally slapped me. I wanted to hit back at him, but somehow, I knew better. I yelled the words that I thought would hurt him the most: “I hate you.” And at that moment in my life, I did.

Hate is a motivating emotion. Fear, anger, and hatred are all painstakingly linked together. Much like love, all of them can serve to influence our behavior. My father had served his country during the Korean War in the United States Navy. So, after high school, I needed to show him that I was much tougher than him and I joined the United States Marines. I didn’t even bother to tell him until just a few days before I left for boot camp. It was the only time I ever recall seeing him cry.

It is an ancient ritual of fathers and their children. The child yearning to grow into adulthood, and a father’s tough love. Mothers can be demanding, but they have that nurturing and caring side that escapes most men. Fathers try to instill discipline in order to help their children succeed in a heartless, often uncaring, world.

When you become a father, you are reminded by memory and experience or from others and those lessons you pass along to your own children. The ritual of fatherhood continues. You will hear the words of hate spewed back at you, and it hurts. The emotional pain hurts more than any physical pain. At that moment you realize the hurt you caused your own father. It is then you start the healing process.

The Christmas before he passed away, my dad asked me to come see him. He handed me a wad of cash, and a newspaper with the price of hams circled. He then handed me a list of names and some addresses. He wanted me to deliver, in secret, hams to all those addresses, including many people I had never met. I had discovered he had been doing this much of his life for the underprivileged. I also learned from my Uncle that he had played Santa Claus at orphanages in South Korea while he was in the Navy. He said he would never play that role again, and he didn’t, because one little girl had asked him for a father. I started to understand him better.

My mother called me on that October day in 1991. You need to come home, your father is dying. I had heard that before. More to please her than to satisfy him, I went home. He was dying. But it would be a magnificent death. For once all was clear, pain seemingly gone. For just a few days he was able to apologize for all the wrongs he had committed or felt he had committed. Words were said that needed to be spoken, and a message was given that needed to be heard. He held nothing back, sharing a lifetime full of words in a few hours. His remorse was heartfelt and restorative.

Sitting there watching my father pass into his eternal reward, based on his Christian faith, I reflected on the broken man who raised me. It was years later when I was truly able to forgive. I don’t condone many of his actions, but I was able to move past them. I learned that I am much like my father in many ways. A strength, a toughness that is entrenched into my being that I inherited. I remember among his last words: “Life really is simple, we just complicate it. If I had to do it over again I would focus more on those things that are important, like faith and family.” I am my father’s son.

JC Bowman is the Executive Director of Professional Educators of Tennessee, a non-partisan teacher association headquartered in Nashville, Tennessee. Permission to reprint in whole or in part is hereby granted, provided that the author and the association are properly cited. For more information on this subject or any education issue please contact Professional Educators of Tennessee. Follow him on Twitter at @jcbowman or his Blog at http://www.jcbowman.com

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