Hues of Autumn – The Warrior Arises

By September 23, 2014Uncategorized

sport12 I recently had a discussion with a friend of mine. Male. Married. With kids. And I asked him how he was doing in his relationship with God and how he was handling the stresses and joys or fatherhood and husband – hood. He mentioned some of his frustrations, and some of his joys, then told me he was good with God. For whatever reason I felt compelled to push him on that last one. I asked him if he read the Bible and prayed with his little boy every day, to which he replied that he did, except when he was travelling for work, then his wife covered him. As a little girl growing up, my father travelled a lot and yes, my mother did everything within her power to cover him. He travelled out of necessity, for work, to put food on the table. Anyone who knows me knows that my father and I are and have always had a special bond. But his travelling years were a strain, even for me, Daddy’s Little Girl. I could never understand why he was gone so often. And when he was gone which cumulatively turned out to be long, it caused a strain on our relationship. it was always amazing to see him and spend time with him but sometimes it felt like we had to start over or go over things a second time or look for things that had been missed and fill in the blanks. This brings me to a point that I believe has left a gap in the lives of many men today. There is a whole generation of men out there that is hurting and does not know how to heal. A generation of men who were taught that emotion can be equated only to weakness and that expression and communication are tools to fuel that weakness. I call them the fatherless generation. It is the generation of men born circa 1940 – 1980 and it is a generation that does not know how to reach out, how to receive love, how to be loved and how to move forward. I dare say that I highly doubt that my grandfather ever told my father that he loved him. It wasn’t in his nature, it did not come natural and it just wasn’t done. That being the case, the first time I told my father that I love him, I was old enough to remember it, and it felt strange rolling off my tongue. African’s didn’t say it. It was understood – no need for words. He was awkward about it at first but now it comes natural; At least with me / to me. I’m not sure about him and my brother, his son – not sure when it started, when it became natural or if it is done outside of my family unit; I’m the mushy one who forces emotions on everyone so they have learned to love me in my language: Conversely, with my nephew, his grandson, it comes so natural for both of them. Allow me to go round and round before coming back home. I am after all a woman and I do have a certain quota of words for the day that I must use up, In today’s world, there is a generation that does not know that loving someone and letting them in is a good thing. They prefer to be strong and tough and not let anyone in. They prefer to handle matters alone, make decisions alone, hurt alone, cry alone (if they even know how to cry) and come up with solutions alone. To that little boy inside of you who does not know how to love and be loved, To that little boy who is trapped inside the body of a grown man but has no way out, To that little boy who is hurting and doesn’t know that it’s hurt, To that little boy who is now a man and doesn’t know how to turn things around, Today I celebrate the little boy in you. I celebrate the warrior in you. I celebrate the champion in you. I celebrate the the father, son, brother, friend in you. I celebrate the superhero in you. You are Beautiful – Empowered – Visionary You are our very own @BeautifulPetal_



Author Bev

I am Beautiful - Empowered - Visionary

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