American’s fall in and out of “love” faster than changes to our Facebook news feeds. And we “love” everything: sit coms, celebrities, salty snacks, smart phones, and all things shiny. But our love is fickle. One day we’re in love. The next day we’re out.
Recently my boys fell in love with golf. The catalytic event was a night at Top Golf – the cosmic bowling of golf. Pop music, elevated tee boxes, automated scoring, illuminated targets, tee-side table service…even injectable donut holes (the raspberry filling is best). From that night until today, they can’t stop talking about it. And who can blame them. Top Golf is the “Shiny Penny” of golf.
I wanted to be sure they hadn’t fallen in love with a Hollywood version of golf. So I took them out to play 9 holes. Amazingly, they hit the clubhouse wanting more.
A week later, they were marching around the back yard with clubs in hand – hitting every kind of ball known to man. They looked more like hunters than golfers. My oldest was preparing to haul off on a soccer ball when I screamed, “STOP” – for fear he’d break his new wedge.
Wandering over I noticed exploded citrus scattered across the lawn. Knowing what happened, but curious as to their explanation, I inquired of my eldest.
Me: Were you guys hitting citrus?
Son: There were a few limes on the ground so we hit those.
Me: Those were lemons.
Son: Oh.
Me: That’s what lemons look like 4 months before they’re ripe. Did you pick them?
Son: Yeah, I guess we did pick some.
Me: Based on the carnage it looks like you’ve got a slice (pun intended).
That night I dozed off on the couch. When I awoke, the boys were asleep in bed. I asked my wife, “How was bedtime?” She replied, “I mediated a fight. One of our boys had a golf club – the other a plastic bat. I disarmed them before they maimed each other…”
Love makes us do crazy things.
I’ve contemplated the parental implications of my boys’ newfound “love.” Candidly, I couldn’t define love until a few years ago when I heard a powerfully simple definition.
Love is the commitment of my will, to your needs and best interests – regardless of the cost (to me). Dr. Tim Kimmel
Let’s pause momentarily to address the elephant in the room. My boys don’t “love” golf. They “like” it. It’s fun – a novelty. But me – I “love” my boys. And I recognize that any time something captures their attention for more than a day – I have an opportunity to make them feel loved…simply by validating their interests.
I know it’s just golf – but to them it’s radically important. Beyond that, it’s a metaphor for something bigger. You see; when our heart inclines toward something – it often drags us into uncharted territory. In unfamiliar places, we defer to our feelings and emotions rather than fact and logic. It’s in these times, when lacking wisdom to illuminate the path, that our kids needs us most.
Take golf for example. Knowing virtually nothing about it, their emotions drive the cart (another pun intended). They swing for the fences – caring little about technique. They putt whenever they’re ready – with no regard for other golfers on the green. They cheer loudly when one of them hits a good shot – forgetting others are teeing off. Don’t get me started on replacing divots, hitting out of sand, marking their ball, or all the other subtleties? Knowing little – they do what they feel.
That’s where dad comes in. I must be willing to commit my will (deciding to step into this moment) to meet their needs and best interests (imparting wisdom about the thing they’ve fallen in love with), regardless of the cost to me (investing my time and money).
I suspect my boys will fall out of love with golf – maybe before breakfast tomorrow. But until they do, it’s incumbent upon me to teach them all I know. In doing so, my boys will know they’re loved – because what matters to them matters to me.
At some point in the not-too-distant future, my boys will actually fall in love. When that day comes, the stakes will be higher. Teaching boys about golf is one thing. Teaching them to love a young woman – that’s a whole different thing. My job will go from tee box etiquette to matters of the heart. Lessons about purity, faithfulness, self-sacrifice and delayed gratification will trump lessons on ball marks flop shots. If I’ve proven to my boys I care about the little things that matter to them – they’ll listen to me when I wade into the big things. If I haven’t invested in the little things, why would they trust me on the biggies?
To get good at golf you have to practice. And like spending time at the driving range, we have to practice with our kids to get good at parenting.
Let me know how you’ve practiced loving your kids in the little things.