Their Daily Melodies

I remember holding our daughters after they were born. And every time I held them after that, I was in awe of their breathing, and then eventually their babbling. Listening to them was like a daily mindful meditation. Their peaceful sleep with eyes shut tight and their alert awareness with eyes wide open. These tiny creatures were completely dependent on us to keep them safe and alive. I held them and loved them more than I ever could've imagined. 

Because for many years prior to that, I never imagined holding my own babies. Neither did my wife Amy. We just didn't want to have children. After we each grew up in our own unstable environments, bringing a child into the world just wasn't something we wanted to do. We just wanted to enjoy our lives together and see the world. 

I had crappy father role models, too. An abusive birth father who berated and beat my mother. An abusive first stepfather who terrorized my mother and sister and sexually assaulted me. But even when we found the father we never had in our second stepfather, the one who's name we took, the one who loved and cared for us as his own, it wasn't enough to convince me that I could do the same someday. Or, would want to do the same someday.

One of the many things my dad (second stepfather) instilled in me was listening. Just listening. Without judgment. And sometimes without even talking, because listening was more than verbal. This was especially important during our teenage years, which were the years shortly after our mom and him had gotten together and married. As teens, we didn't think anyone was listening, especially our parents, but Dad listened well. He still was dad, though, and every single time I'd lock my keys in my car as a teenager, which I did a lot, he'd shake his head and say, "Oh, son." And then curse a little and explain to me how and why I should better manage my keys.

When my mom couldn't help herself being reactive and judgmental about a situation, my dad usually could do the opposite. He would listen and was very thoughtful and measured in his response to whatever the situation was. What I didn't realize until over two decades later was how much his listening impacted me. 

Amy and I eventually changed our minds about having children and we're so grateful we did. Back then, we'd been listening to each other without really talking literally about having kids. Like my dad taught me, both verbal and non-verbal listening are key to quality committed relationships -- from spouses to children to friends to any relationship. Holding our newborns and then watching them grow and thrive as children and now to being practically teens has flown by, but we've also celebrated and lived within every moment, which slows time dramatically. 

We actually control life's tempo more than we think we do. It's like me finally learning how to play the drums. It's not just speed or complexity of the literal sequenced beats on the snare, toms, high-hat, and symbols that are important, it's also the empty spaces in between the beats, the rests that connect all the notes. Combined, these music measures are what tell the entire story. If you're listening that is. Our now practically teens may not think we're always listening to them, but we are, and listening to their daily melodies resonates with our deepest love. 

Thank you, Dad. And to grateful "listening" fathers everywhere, Happy Father's Day.