My two sons

The responsibilities of being a father can be overwhelming. Nearly 1 in 3 children in America live apart from their fathers for a variety of reasons, but it must be conceded that often its because today's men aren't prepared or willing to face the task at hand.

Being a dad to boys is a different challenge all together. Don't get me wrong, I love my girls. I pamper them. I melt around them. Admittedly, they manipulate me daily and I love that they do. The sound of my girls saying, "Daddy" has a way of bringing me to my knees in submission. And I can't imagine that as they get older that will ever change. Ever.

I love my son. We are friends. We are partners in crimes around our house. We are football tossing & baseball throwing buddies. We play a pretty mean game of army. Much to his mother's chagrin, in so many ways we are exactly the same. My 7 year old son emulates so much of what I do and say that it often scares me. From expressions I use (ie, John-Brown-it, WORD, holla) to his uncanny ability to turn any situation into an excuse to dance. His constant joking, his love for sports, his uber-sensitive nature, his ability to cry at the drop of a hat. He is his father.

But despite the fact that we are so alike, my son sometimes must endure a rougher parenting style from me than his sisters receive. I tell him to shake off his injuries, to "man up" when something I think shouldn't bother him makes him upset. I push him harder and often times hold him to a standard that simply isn't fair for a growing 7 year old boy. Why? Perhaps I feel some additional responsibility to not only play with him and protect him, but also to train him. Train him to be a man, train him to lead. Perhaps I'm worried that if he is so much like me, he will grow up and become me...including all my deficiencies. Deep down I feel a burden to train him to be the man that I wish I was. To not make the same mistakes that his father has. But the more I reflect on it, this isn't a winning strategy to raise young men. Clearly my parenting style is like everyone else's: imperfect. I have done some great things as a dad and made even more mistakes than I care to admit along the way.

But tomorrow is a different day. Tomorrow is gotcha day. Tomorrow around 3AM Eastern time a woman who lives on the other side of the world will carry my youngest son into a room where I will be waiting. Waiting to hold him. Waiting to love him. Waiting to train him. A meeting planned before time, but just revealed to us. In a matter of moments, I will have two sons. Double the challenge. Double the responsibility. Double the mistakes?

God's expectations for my two sons isn't perfection. Why should their earthly father hold them to a higher standard than Abba? I pray that God gives me wisdom beyond my understanding as tomorrow I begin the journey as a father of four. May my decisions about my sons (and daughters) be guided by prayer and direction from the

Holy Spirit. That my own pride, selfishness and sin won't be a motiving factor in how I parent them.

These are my beloved sons. And with them I am well pleased. No matter what.