Strength

Boys seek to be strong and powerful.  This shouldn't come as a surprise, but I have to remind myself that even young boys have these innate desires. 

Our two oldest sons are constantly (I mean several times a day) trying to outmuscle each other. They wrestle, play tug of war with toys, chase, mock, kick and scream at each other. Occasionally, our two year old will win a power battle over the four year old. Oh boy, when that happens there is usually a counter attack of four year old rage. Our boys expel their aggressions on each other and I often feel there is no way to prevent this. I say to myself, isn't this what boys, especially brothers, are supposed to do? There are even times their father and I participate in playful games of who is stronger/better. Unintentionally, it's as if we are pitting them against each other. Who can kick the ball the farthest? Who can run the fastest? Who can lift the plastic chair and put it in the kitchen? I wonder if we are doing more harm than good by emphasizing these qualities. 

I am a competitive person and think it's essential to certain areas of our lives (sports for instance). But, strength is so much more than what we can or cannot do physically. Strength comes from within and it shines without us. I want to convey these ideas to our sons more than anything. I've been somewhat successful explaining inner strength (self-control is very powerful after all) and he seems to understand even at his age. Still, boys see their world as us vs. them and weak vs. strong. Older boys probably outgrow this once they are mature enough to realize physical strength doesn't automatically qualify you as a stronger, better person. How do you train boys to want to be strong for the right reasons (instead of just to overpower someone and win)? These are some of the struggles we're facing these days. I hope to come up with more answers and better solutions as I navigate my life with three sons. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Church on Fire

Mother's Day is this Sunday, followed up by Pentecost Sunday on the 19th. I have been reflecting on my first Mother's Day in 2016. It was a special Sunday because our oldest son was baptized that day.  His innocent face was a portrait of peace, his demeanor that of perfection (oh, how 8 years can make a difference!). The pictures from that day popped up on my Facebook feed and brought with it pieces of my heart that have been portioned out to the church of my youth. I've been praying diligently for my children every day since they were born, even before that time if I'm honest. I pray the church they "grow up" invokes similar feelings as the one I knew and loved in my youth.  My mother raised my sister and me in the United Methodist Church. She was the most important person in introducing me to the church. Church as a kid was a positive experience, filled with faithful leaders and followers of Jesus. I remember the Reverend who visited our home and sat beside ...
Read more

Concentration

Image
Everyone knows that tennis is as much a physical game as it is a mental game. You need to focus your mental effort on strategy and placement and timing and movement, all while positioning and setting up the eventual (you hope) winning point. Concentration in tennis is as paramount as flour in a cake batter. Without concentration, you might miss the ball completely. It can be like that in life too.  Have you ever played the card game Concentration? My kids love this game of skill and memory, and it forces them to focus on both the little picture and the big picture. They have to take mental pictures and tap into their memories, often as you have to do in a tennis match. It's amazing how much our minds can remember! Sometimes so much time passes and memories fade. Other times, even the smallest details of memorable times in our lives are clearly painted in our minds. And even if we don't always recall the exact situation in detail, we still remember how we felt. When I was a chil...
Read more

In Spring Breezes

 I'm seated on my gray-cushioned outdoor loveseat. It's the first day of April, one made for fools like me and these three monkeys I call my baby boys. There is a steady breeze in the air. Green tree leaves swish and swash under the hum of the parkway behind the house. The cloud coverage indicates a storm is brewing. And so it seems, as we enter the "cruelest month", a storm is always brewing in our heart of hearts. It's a deep crevice buried inside, where love overflows but is trapped.   The boys are playing with foam swords and soccer balls, racing up and down the playscape slide. They are free to feel and roam and laugh. A dog barks nearby; a train rumbles in the distance. In Spring breezes, the boys continue to frolic and trample across the already trampled grass. They roar with thunderous energy. Their voices and cries are inherent parts of their being. "Look mama, a garbage truck," exclaims the youngest. In his charade of existence, in this backyar...
Read more