No Greater Joy Ministries » Boys Only

When Dad’s Away, Boys Need More Than Play

Chasity Akiki — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 14:03:35 +0000

There’s nothing quite like boys…ferociously competitive, endlessly energetic, possessed with the insatiable desire to grab the world by the horns…I’m working up a sweat just thinking about it. This is boys at their best, the way God designed them to be. Our culture pressures us to feminize our boys. It accuses by asking, don’t I want my boys to be caring men? Yes. Thoughtful and considerate? You bet. Sulky, lazy, unmotivated wimps? Yuck. I have six boys, and my husband works away from home. Fellow moms see this and often ask me questions like, How do you keep your boys busy? What kind of work or activities can I give my boys? How do I raise my son to be a man when his dad works away from home all day?

A little about Dad…

Boys need their father. They need his guidance, his leadership, his example. Unfortunately, in modern times Dad is often away from home earning a living for his family. It has been a dream of ours to work together as a family, and we have done that in the past, but currently a family business is just not feasible for us, and that’s okay. As wives, we have to work with what our husbands provide. My first and biggest blessing as a mother of boys is that my man fathers his children wherever he is. He calls home two or three times a day to see what they’re working on, give them directions, or just ask questions. “What are the boys doing right now? Have they finished the project they started this morning?” John, my husband, has taught our boys to be capable and confident. He’s worked beside them, showing them how to do things until he knew he could trust their solo efforts. We’ve both taught them that they can do anything—and if they don’t know how, they can learn. My husband gives the boys jobs and projects, but day by day it’s up to me to keep them busy and engaged.

A little about why…

Why all the fuss about children being busy? Don’t children need time to play and be entertained and “be kids”? Children need structure and organization. We want them to be hardworking, responsible adults, right? They’ll never learn how unless they’re working and responsible now. It’s never too early or too late.

Boys, in particular, are our future men, the fathers, providers, and leaders of tomorrow.

Boys, in particular, are our future men, the fathers, providers, and leaders of tomorrow. I want my boys to “quit you like men” and get the job done. My husband told someone that the way he changes the oil in our vehicle is by first sitting down, usually with a cup of coffee, and then saying to one of our boys, “Change the oil.” The man marveled, “And you really trust his work?” Well, yes, because after doing it with our son the first few times, he let him do it himself and checked his work. Doing it himself and seeing his work meet with Dad’s approval builds confidence in our son. A while back, my car was shrilly squeaking whenever I turned a corner. My 12-year-old son said, “Mom, I can fix that,” and he named the part he believed was at fault, a something-or-other belt; I thought belts were for holding up pants. But my son was confident he could fix it—and he did. He fixed it even though he had until that day never repaired that part; he’d just watched Dad work on it before. Boys need that self-assured belief that they can do anything to grow into men of action and achievement—but they’ll never build that confidence if Mom and Dad never give them real responsibility. We have to give important jobs to our kids, and then we have to trust them and not worry about them messing up. It would certainly be easier for us to just do the hard stuff ourselves and let our boys play, but our goal isn’t to do what’s easy. It’s to raise men.

A little about entertainment…

Boys need that self-assured belief that they can do anything to grow into men of action and achievement—but they’ll never build that confidence if Mom and Dad never give them real responsibility.

My boys love to read. It is their favorite pastime, hands down. Most people would say that’s fantastic, and indeed it is a good thing. But as with anything we enjoy, it can get excessive. Whether entertainment takes the form of a book, a card game, a movie (even educational documentaries) or just playing, it’s all the same. It’s all entertainment. We all like to relax and be entertained from time to time, but everything has to have its place. I don’t want my boys to be idle, so I only allow reading or any other form of entertainment after dinner cleanup. (Obviously school time and Bible study are exceptions.) I want them to be using their minds and hands creatively during the daylight hours. My husband and I treat our boys as young men. We want them to be hardworking and confident. I believe the more productive we are, the better we feel, and so I structure my children’s day to be active and busy—and they love it.

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Yes Daddies and Amen Mamas

Michael Pearl — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 17:00:54 +0000

In the March-April print issue of NGJ magazine, you read the article “Be a Door Opener Not a Door Shutter.” This is a follow-up, also taken from a book in progress, Traditional Child Training.

You cannot be the No Daddy; you must be the Go Daddy. Don’t just fence him off from evil influences; open the door to a world that is more exciting and promising than anything the world has to offer.

Recently a father drove his truck up alongside of me while I was grading the driveway and asked if I had a few minutes to talk. I pulled the tractor over to the side of the lane, and he parked his truck beside me. I sat in the tractor seat and he leaned against the grill of the truck as he began to express his concerns. This is country pastoral counseling at its finest. This father has two grown girls, now married and having children of their own. They are his beautiful fruit, but his garden is not fully harvested. He has children not yet in their teens. He started out by saying, “I have done well raising girls; it was easy. But I am uncertain about how to relate to a boy who will be going through puberty pretty soon.” I could understand his consternation. Raising girls and raising boys are as different as raising fainting rabbits and wolf pups. Girls can become a problem if they are not made to feel loved and secure and protected from the world, but, with rare exception, boys are going to be a problem no matter what—to various degrees. His son is only about seven years old, so now is the time to make course corrections. It could be too late by the time he turns thirteen and turns on to his maleness.

Young life is a constant process of discovery. The world is filled with wonder. Take your son (and your daughters) into the thrill of learning and doing.

The father asked, “What can I do now to make sure I have his heart?” He understood the issue. There is no way to impart to a child the wisdom and skills he will need to cope with the world when the lights start flashing and the world’s door swings open to him. He will need continual guidance until he becomes a man. If a father doesn’t have his son’s heart, the boy will pass it around until someone or something locks it up in a dirty place. Father will stand outside weeping, wondering where he went wrong, wishing he had made a course correction when his son was seven years old. So at this critical moment in this father’s life, I needed to give him a simple answer that would point him in the right direction. I answered, “To keep his heart you must be a door opener and not a door shutter. You must be his most vital source of all things interesting and exciting. He must value a relationship with you because he sees you as an open door to all the good things life has to offer.” He asked, “How do I protect him from worldliness?” Your son may interpret your protection as shutting doors. It is a negative response. You cannot be the No Daddy; you must be the Go Daddy. Don’t just fence him off from evil influences; open the door to a world that is more exciting and promising than anything the world has to offer. If you give your son a life of promise you need not be concerned that someone peddling a lesser product will steal his heart. Young life is a constant process of discovery. The world is filled with wonder. Take your son (and your daughters) into the thrill of learning and doing. Kids love to be good at something—anything. They feel good about themselves when they are succeeding, when they are winning, mastering, developing skills, and conquering. A happy child will climb to the top of any dirt pile and think himself the better for it. A group of kids will play “king on the mountain” seeing who can stay on top and push everyone else off. If you are the parent always saying, “Don’t get your clothes dirty…play nice…get down from there you might get hurt…” you will be the door shutter and they will not enjoy your presence. But if you laugh yourself silly over their antics and brag on the way your little man tumbled from the top of the dirt pile with minimal scrapes and bruises, encouraging him to try again, he will always want his number-one fan around.

You must be his most vital source of all things interesting and exciting. He must value a relationship with you because he sees you as an open door to all the good things life has to offer.

If they are taking piano or violin, they will expect you to arrange for company to sit down while they perform. They want the applause. If there is no applause in your home, you are in danger of losing the hearts of your children. When my two youngest daughters, Shalom and Shoshanna, were about nine and eleven years old they decided to investigate an idea we had entertained for several years. We live in Middle Tennessee in an area of limestone ridges. Our 12-acre bottomland pasture is bordered by a ridge about 100 feet tall. During the cold winters, we observed that the area around a gopher hole would be covered with ice crystals. I had often commented that it indicated a deep hole, perhaps a cave. So on a fine summer day the girls decided to take shovel and pick and discover their very own—never before seen by human eyes—cave. After about four hours of digging nearly straight down, they encountered solid limestone rock, but the gopher hole continued through a large crack. I went out to check on their progress and was amazed that they had moved about two yards of dirt. They had made a hole three feet by three feet wide and six feet deep—big enough to bury three cows. They were about ready to give up, so I showed excitement over their progress and stayed to help them by hauling the dirt out of the hole with a bucket. The next day I stopped to check on their progress several times and found them tunneling under the big rock. They got so deep it became difficult to remove the dirt, so they gave up. About a week later I had a backhoe on the property for another purpose and directed the operator to dig out the dirt that blocked their progress. He cleared the way about ten feet deep, moving some big rocks the size of small cars that had slid off the ridge during Noah’s flood. They now had direct, horizontal access to the gopher hole under the rock and continued digging. But as they dug further back under the rock they had to go deeper as well. After about a week of further excavation, gaining about fifteen feet with shovel and pick, they discovered a stalactite hanging from the rock above. They were thrilled and I was too. Now they were digging straight back in a narrow, well weathered corridor that showed signs of long exposure to running water. They were having trouble in the confined space, so I made some short-handled tools and a sliding pan on which to place the dirt they dug. Taking turns, they crawled into the narrow hole and filled the pan with dirt. I would drag it out and empty it, and they would pull it back in with a second rope tied to it. They were now about 20 feet deep into the rock and discovered a stalactite and stalagmite blocking their path—proof of a cave of some sort. We were over-the-top excited, but we conspired to keep it a secret because the boys had been making fun of the girls—and of me for helping them. They would say things like, “The only cave is the one the girls are digging.” It was hard to keep from telling them, but the mystery made it all the more adventuresome. We hated to do it, but we broke the stalactite so progress could continue. They eventually moved enough dirt to allow both of them into the tunnel at the same time. By then I was dedicating several hours a day to helping them because I was confident there was a cave concealed behind all that dirt.

Become your child’s partner in wonder and you will not be left wondering why they departed.

Then one afternoon both girls were deep in the tunnel, flashlights visible, the sound of shovel and pick, and I heard one of the girls excitedly exclaim, “The dirt is falling the other way!” I screamed, “Be careful!” And then their lights disappeared and their excited voices were muffled. I admit, I about panicked. I thought they might have fallen in a hole. After about a minute a light reappeared in the dark tunnel and I could see Shalom’s face about 25 feet away. She was beside herself with joy. “It is a big cave full of stalagmites and stalactites, and what looks like a frozen waterfall!” As the two girls came scurrying out of the cave, their faces shined with a joy and exhilaration that I will never forget. I calmed them down and we discussed how to break the news to the world. The two boys and their mocking friends were our primary targets. How to make the most out of it was our concern. So we waited until dinner time, when everyone was sitting around the table and one of the boys condescendingly asked, “So, how’s the cave digging going? You guys get to China yet?” One of the girls, continuing to eat, answered without looking up, “No, we are now exploring deeper; we think it is a about a mile deep but stalactites are blocking our path. We are searching for a way around them now.” The boys laughed like it was a good joke designed to cover up their failure, but the other girl offered additional comment, and I coolly agreed with their assessment. We had them. The boys were suspended between belief and doubt. We milked it for all we could get, causing them to commit to their unbelief while we matter-of-factly, like it was a routine discovery, one we never doubted, continued to give the details. Like Peter and John running to the tomb to confirm their unbelief, the boys ran down the lane to prove the girls wrong, and the girls and I ran right behind them, carrying the flashlights and lanterns. The boys hastily crawled down the long confining entrance to emerge into a beautiful world of ivory-colored formations branching out in six or eight directions, winding and twisting, sometimes rising above and then dipping down to the former level. It was labyrinth of delightful discovery. How sweet it was! Now the girls burst into exciting recounts of all their experiences. It was their cave. They guarded it, making sure no one broke any of the formations; nothing could be removed. It was the first time human eyes had ever beheld these wonders of God’s creation. Now, as I reflect back on this event in our family, I realize that I was not following some principle of child training. I was their door opener, their partner in discovery, the instigator of a journey into wonder, but it was part of my soul to want to delight my daughters, to stimulate them in an adventure. I enjoyed their pleasure better than any pleasure I could instigate for myself. Now, it is unlikely that any of you will ever have the opportunity to discover a cave. I know that was a unique experience. But understand, there were a thousand other common experiences that produced that same camaraderie of discovery, that walk in wonderland, resulting in a bond between parent and child. Taking time out to build a swing, to set up a swimming pool, to teach them to dive or turn a flip, to laugh at their antics and brag on their accomplishments—all these things make you a door opener in the child’s life. Become your child’s partner in wonder and you will not be left wondering why he departed.

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Knittin’ Nate

Debi Pearl — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 21:07:38 +0000

Dad, a Visionary who thinks he is a Command Man, came in from work and passed his son without speaking. He is known for his remarkable self-control—sometimes resembling an explosion that happens inside an unexpandable enclosure. Passing into another room, he stiffly leaned over and whispered into his wife’s ear, every word stiltedly punctuated in a monotone voice that had been carefully stripped of any emotion, “Do you know what my son is doing?” Mom answered without bothering to look up, “Sure. He is knitting himself a neck scarf.” “My son? Knitting?” he uttered, still only inches from her ear. “But he is MY son, and he is knitting. Who taught my son to knit?” the word “knit” spit out like unwelcomed foreign matter bitter to the palate. That event occurred about 20 years ago, though Knitting Nate’s mama just got around to telling us the story last week when she was visiting our home. Considering how the knitter turned out, we had a grand old laugh at the telling. It’s funny NOW. It wasn’t so funny to Dominant Dad when first-born son Nate was seven years old; it was confusing. Knitting Nate’s dad is a man’s man and he does not knit—never knitted; the only person in his family up until that point who ever knitted was Grandma, and she died early. It was painfully difficult for old tough-guy Dad to understand how his SON could be interested in something as “girl-like” as knitting. Like I said, it’s a funny story now because Knitting Nate today is nearly a foot taller than his dad, standing close to six and a half feet tall, and has a man-size job that Dad is extremely proud of. He is working in highly classified military intelligence. For that reason we changed his name. Today he is the kind of son that makes Mama smile and Dad breathe a deep sigh of satisfaction. Boys are different. Grown-up Knitting Nate is a 100% Steady Man (see Created to NEED a Help Meet). He is Priestly in his relationships with others, helpful, kind, considerate, and dependable. He was a Priestly little boy, but his Visionary dad, who is very prophet-like in his relationships with people, found it difficult to understand exactly what made Nate tick. I can only guess what Mike would have done if he had observed one of his sons knitting, not that we didn’t have to make a few mental adjustments ourselves when raising our sons. Gabriel came into this world born to dominate. Mike related to him from the beginning. As a young boy, Gabe drove me nuts bossing me around. As a young, servant-type mother I had to finally stand up to him and tell him who was boss. After that, he was protective and gentle toward me. Now that Gabe is grown I would think he is at least 60% Command Man and 35% Steady, with just a tiny bit of Visionary. Unlike those of you who have read our books Created to Be His Help Meet and Created to NEED a Help Meet, I didn’t have the opportunity to understand why my son bossed me around. I also didn’t have a clue why my husband didn’t see it as a problem. Nathan, our second-born son, was very different from Gabe. He came into the world, literally, with a smile on his face. In his youth he liked to go hunting and fishing with his dad, but only so he could be in the woods; he didn’t want to harm the animals. Often, when Mike came back from hunting with his two sons, he would scratch his head as he whispered, “Nathan said he didn’t like to hurt the animals so he didn’t want to shoot.” I guess he whispered because the telling was so odd that saying it out loud would have been offensive. A disinterest in hunting and fishing was not the only thing different about our Nathan. When Nathan was about four years old, Mike and I would often look out our windows to the play area and see our tiny little guy with his hands lifted up to the sky, walking while loudly praying with tears streaming down his cheeks. To say we were bumfuzzled is an understatement. We thought he would grow up to be a real-live, modern-day prophet, or, weird as it seemed, a Pentecostal preacher. While we watched his strange behavior, we hoped that was all that would come of it. As I said, at that time we had not come to an understanding of how God created man in his own image and that image included all three sides of God’s nature, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Even at such a ripe young age—or maybe due to his young age—his Prophet/Priestly image shone especially bright. Nathan still loves prayer. He is very Priestly, wanting to help and heal those in need, but the little-boy Prophet is now a man Prophet. And he is so amazingly normal. Being old has its perks. There is peace in seeing the end results, at least when the results are good. I have lived through those times when I didn’t have a clue what to do or how to do it. I didn’t understand the whys and wherefores of my sons. Now I know that there wasn’t much to fear after all. As parents, we just needed to honor God, love each other, and enjoy our children the way they were. Then we could watch God give the increase. My boys are now quickly approaching middle age, and both are strong, well-balanced men, good daddies, and loving husbands. I could have enjoyed the moments more if I had had the understanding of the three kinds of images manifested in boys and men. It would have taken the confusion out of the moments in life when our sons were different from what we supposed was normal. Our daughters, although all three are strong personalities, are not so pronounced or confusing. Our oldest is dignified, reserved, and creative. The next daughter was born serving and caring for others—and still does. Our last daughter is a wild hare, scheming, creative, and full of new ideas. It is good that she was born last in that she has kept us entertained and holding our breath. This past week we were cleaning out an office that once was her bedroom, and we laughed as we studied the walls. They are still the bright, mint green she painted. They are covered with other bright colors and painted flowers and designs. Clearly, she leaves her mark. But with all her expression, her personality is not so pronounced as are the boys’. Many people have written in, concerned about a young son’s shyness or bossiness or wild ideas. I read their letters and laugh and wish I had time to write to give them the answers we have learned. As my friend Karen (Knitting Nate’s mama) and I talked about our sons, each telling funny stories, we came to a solid conclusion: there should be a book for moms and dads on how to raise the three kinds of sons. That is easier said than done. I need your help. I need you moms and dads to send me stories of your sons. I need young parents to ask questions that I can post and have older parents tell us how they helped their young Steady boy grow bolder, or how their crazy Visionary son learned to harness his imagination and keep his feet on solid ground. I need to hear from those of you who have learned to channel the energies of your bossy, Command son. If you want a book, then help us write it. Mike and I will learn from you and do our part. Share this article on your Facebook page so your friends can jump in and help. With a thousand examples and as many questions, we can sift the information and provide this next generation with some real answers. So when your husband comes with an outraged face asking, “Do you know what MY son, my SON is doing?” you can smile and say, ”Yep, he’s knitting, and someday he will be protecting this nation. Here, read all about it.”

NEW BOOK!

Help Us Help You! We are going to write a book on the three types of boys—Command, Steady, and Visionary, but we need your help. We need illustrations and questions. We are waiting on you to send in your stories. If you do not want your name used, please put that in your story or change the names to protect the “guilty”. If you are OK with seeing your son’s name in 500,000 books in 15 languages then include it. We are waiting on you. Write to us at BoysBook@nogreaterjoy.org

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We Say Good Morning

Michael Pearl — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 11:15:26 +0000

Live and learn. Five-year-old Jeremiah stayed with us for four days while his parents attended a funeral out of state. He is a very sound sleeper. Nothing wakes him once he goes out. Just tell him to lie down and in one minute he goes bye bye. But he sometimes wets his bed during the night, so his mother has him sleep in an absorbent garment made for older kids who wet themselves. The first morning, as he got up and was stepping out of his pull up diaper, I said, “Did you wet yourself?” As he pushed his absorbent garment to the floor he said, “Na” and walked off. But then I smelled something awful. Picking it up I said, “Yea, you peed on yourself; better go wash up.” Something similar took place the next two mornings, as well. On the fourth morning, he got up without me noticing and was coming from the bathroom. I said, “Did you wash yourself off?” “Yeah, I washed my butt.” “Well, your butt is not enough; you need to wash all over.” “Naah, that’s enough.” “You need to wash the front, too; I can smell you.” “It’s okay; it doesn’t stink.” “You might not be able to smell it, but I can, and it stinks.” And then he said, “At my house we say good morning.” At first I thought he had changed the subject, and then it dawned on me that he was rebuking me for not beginning the day with good fellowship as his parents do at home. Apparently they don’t rag him about his bed wetting. Wow! Shut my mouth! Live and learn.

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Like Father, Like Son

Michael Pearl — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 12:20:18 +0000

I had to stop and stare at the beautiful humor. Father and ten-year-old son were so identical you could have matched them up out of a thousand daddies and a thousand sons. They sported the same pointed noses and rounded chins. Their blushed cheeks and tall foreheads were perfect copies. Their dark, narrow eyes finished out their common genetic display. They even walked the same, each carrying a Coke and some snack. Their dirty, work-worn pants sagged beneath their bellies in the same manner, and the only difference between their rounded shoulders was proportion—a two-hundred pounder and a seventy-five pounder. I wondered how the boy escaped getting any traits from his mother. He looked like a clone of his dad. As I stood there smiling, I remembered the many good times I shared with my young sons—and daughters—all the stores we entered, rides in old pickup trucks, chores performed together, helping me on the job, going fishing or hunting, or just stopping at a pawn shop to browse. And then the bell started ringing again, the bell in my head that goes off when I see an example of what is missing in families today. That little ‘cloned’ ten-year-old was emotionally as sturdy as a cedar fence post. I could see relaxed contentment written all over him. He was not a troublesome kid who did things to get attention; he was a little man with responsibility. He respected his daddy and his daddy respected him. They were a team, something even a mother could never understand or share. Fathers, there is no substitute for time spent with your sons. Boys do not want to sit in front of you and have serious talks. They will scratch you off like a chigger bite. Boys will talk when all eyes are focused on the yellow and white lines on the highway. They will talk when they have a splitting maul in their hands and you are stacking the fire wood they split. Words about duty and doing the right thing and being responsible mean little compared to the example you manifest day after day and year after year. Some of these old country fathers never knowingly try to teach their boys anything, but they manage to duplicate their own character and personality in their sons by means of fellowship. I say it again: “More is caught than taught.” “Like father, like son.” “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Life begets life. Living begets living. Righteousness and peace beget righteousness and peace. The greatest privilege and opportunity this life affords a man is a second, third, fourth, fifth chance (depending on how many kids you have) to mold a man fit for the kingdom of God. Our personal mistakes and shortcomings can be corrected in our sons. We can give God a better childhood, youth, and manhood than our own. We make an indelible contribution to eternity. What an incredible responsibility!

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Adrenaline Rush

Shalom (Pearl) Brand — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 11:45:26 +0000

Over the past couple months, my husband and I have been discussing how parents can help their boys get through those first few years of adolescence. They all have to go through it; there’s no way around it. And it comes just as certainly for the sweet boys as it does for the ornery ones. Of special concern is how we as parents can help our sons survive the most powerful force of their growing-up years that they will ever encounter—the girl-crazy years. As we began to consider the boys we know and analyze why one maintains his equilibrium while another loses his mind and self-control, we came to some important conclusions. All men, especially young men, need an “adrenaline rush,” something women cannot quite understand, but which men and boys love. The thought of climbing a tree, going fast in a car, jumping out of a plane, hitting a ball across a field, running a marathon, playing a chess game, competing in a spelling contest, or even preaching to a crowd, captivates and holds the imagination of almost all hormonal males. The list is endless. Every man’s adrenaline rush is where he finds it. It can be gambling or trading stocks, but no matter in what form it displays itself, beware, because any such rush can be addictive and controlling. Possibilities are all around us. A young boy can fall into his addiction by default—whatever is in vogue in his local environment. But parents, knowing the dangers that are out there, can set the stage for many constructive options. When my husband was only nine, his father put him on a dirt bike. What a rush! That created a growing passion for something bigger and faster than himself. His dad encouraged him and helped him repair old trucks and tractors. He was soon doing mechanic work for others and building his own race car. Always busy searching for this or that part, he went into his teen years with his energy and passion already consumed by his hobby. Girls were of interest, of course, but they never came around to the greasy old barn cluttered with parts. At night, his dreams were of wheels and motors. He still rides his basically homemade motorcycle and has several cars and trucks waiting for repairs parked all over the place. You’ve likely heard the common expression: “Boys never grow up; they just get bigger and more expensive toys.” Thankfully, we know that the kids and I are his greatest passion now. My brother’s never really cared much for mechanic work. Gabe took up hunting when he was only a kid and shot his first deer at the age of eleven. I remember him coming home with great excitement and telling us how he had sat frozen while a herd of deer passed by him. His hands shaking with “deer fever,” he waited, and finally got off a clear shot. He thought he missed and fired again. The deer ran and then stumbled. Another shot. The deer was down. He had done it—meat for the table—all by himself! When he burst in on our breakfast, I can remember how his excitement affected us. It was contagious. Dad, almost as excited as Gabe, left his breakfast and ran out to help him drag the deer home and skin it out. Gabe’s passion for hunting and fishing and the woods kept him busy during those girl-crazy years. It is very hard to think of chasing girls and hunting deer at the same time. But then there are the boys who are just sweet, book-reading, fun to be around, liking their mom, and just enjoying working around the house, playing games, helping with the other kids—you know, those boys whom we all wish we had. For us moms, they are easier to raise than the outdoors kind of boys. Yet when they hit puberty, the struggle for them is much greater than for those boys who are out playing, working, and fighting hard. They do not have an OUTLET to drain off the adrenaline and to burn up the hormones. Their imagination becomes an incubator for sexual adrenaline trips. What can we do to help prepare our sons for the time puberty hits? Way in advance of that “fateful” day, plant in them a vision, a dream for something that will grab their attention and keep them preoccupied from childhood onward and through their adolescent years. Last week I saw on the news where hundreds of young children had gotten together to have a chess competition. They showed the children sitting perfectly still, all their attention focused on the chessboard; they had a vision. They had developed a powerfully strong interest in competitive chess. Look carefully and prayerfully at your young tender boys, and notice what most inspires them. Be creative, and start right now to guide them into the pursuit of their dreams. Left to themselves, they are vulnerable and easy prey for the Evil One, who like a lion is out there seeking to devour them. At all costs, don’t leave them to experience the adrenaline rush alone and unprepared. “…A child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame” (Proverbs 29:15).

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Jeremiah the Fisherman

Michael Pearl — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 11:35:29 +0000

In time, as the other little guys get older, I may come to treasure them as much, but for now, Jeremiah takes the show. Of course, it’s partly because I have seen more of him than I have the other kids. Joe Courage, seven years old, lives so far away that I haven’t had a chance to bond with him, as I have with Jeremiah. The other three male grandkids are just out of the infant stage and can’t compete with a “grownup” young man like Jeremiah. I took Jeremiah and his daddy fishing in the boat out on the Tennessee River the other day. It was the first time for this three-year-old. His daddy gave him a rod and reel about six weeks ago and taught him how to cast and retrieve. He has stood out in the yard for hours practicing. All he has talked about is going fishing with Big Papa, so the time had come. Since it was the first time to go out this year, we had intended to slip off without him and wait for better weather and better fishing conditions to take this would-be fisherman. But when James came over to go fishing with me, Shoshanna and Jeremiah came to drop him off, Jeremiah immediately guessed that James and I were going fishing, and of course, he assumed he was going too. He got really excited. What could I do? The day had now turned from a guys’ time out catching a lot of fish to a three-year-old-centered outing. The girls packed lunch and prepared the ice chest. We three “guys” readied the boat and gear. With everything packed, we rolled out of the driveway while the girls waved us off. I had an extra hat in the truck that could be fitted for small heads, so I told Jeremiah that it was a special fishing hat that must be worn by a fisherman. He donned it with pride, knowing he was now officially inducted into the clan. We anchored the boat at the mouth of a creek running into the river. James and I were going to fish with spinner bait, which requires constant casting and retrieving, so we decided to equip Jeremiah’s rod with a weighted cork and hook. His father would cast for him, so he would not hook one of us in his clumsy attempts. That would keep him still and occupied watching the cork while James and I did the more serious fishing. I began casting right away, while James baited Jeremiah’s hook. James explained to him about watching the cork and keeping his rod’s tip up. “Hold on tightly, or the fish will jerk it out of your hand.” He was trembling with excitement as the boat rocked in the waves. The wind blowing hard against the boat was straining the anchor line, and other larger boats rumbled past, rocking our boat even more. After I had been fishing for about five minutes, James cast Jeremiah’s rig into a likely spot and handed him the rod, repeating the previous instructions. Jeremiah held the rod at about a 45-degree angle and watched his cork intently. I continued to work the area where the clear water of the creek met the murky water of the river. Then suddenly, James hollered out, “You got a bite, Jeremiah; set the hook!” “I got one, I got one!” he yelled.” It was a struggle for him to keep his seat and keep the rod tip up, but he sat there like a pro, cranking the reel. I saw the rod tip bending radically and heard his drag release singing as the fish sent a thrill up the monofilament line and into that little three-year-old body. The fish went one way and then the other, drawing closer to the boat each time. Finally, Jeremiah flipped the Yellow Bass over into the boat. I never had so much fun catching a fish. Before I could catch one fish, this little thirty-five pound fisherman caught another one, and then his daddy caught two. By then we had five fish in the ice chest, and none of them were mine. Jeremiah was talking non-stop—bragging, complimenting himself. Finally, he was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Well, Daddy and I are pretty good fishermen.” After about three hours of fishing, Jeremiah said, “I’m sleepy.” We had anticipated his nap time and brought along a foam mat and blanket to make him a bed in the boat. So James told him, “Here, you can lie down and take your nap.” He looked at the comfortable spot up under the hood of the boat and then straightened up in his seat and said, “No, fishing is more fun.” He caught ten fish. His daddy caught ten, and I caught five. When a stranger walked up on the bank and hailed us, Jeremiah started telling him what a good fisherman he was and that he had caught the most fish. Then he pointed to his hat and explained that it was a fisherman’s hat and he was a fisherman. That he is—forever. He earned his seat in the boat that day. That evening we had a fish bake, and he ate his share. When he had finished off two fish, he threw his hands up in the air and reminded us, “I won.” Everything is competition with him. He wins, all right. He wins hearts. And Big Papa’s heart has been won, for sure! He called early the next morning, ready to go fishing again.

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Who’s The Man?

Gabriel Pearl — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 11:40:56 +0000

Who knows when it starts or how long it lasts, but it is an integral part of turning little boys into godly men. That mysterious conviction is what causes the farmer’s son to think that growing corn is the coolest thing on earth, or what makes the veterinarian’s son love to work with animals. And it is what made me as a boy want to please my dad and try to emulate him. It wasn’t until I was about 14 or 15 that I began to see his imperfections and to understand the looming curse of mortality that was upon him. My dad was just a man of temporal flesh. He was going to die…just like everyone else. And I realized that he was not perfect. But by the time reality set in, he had instilled in me enough integrity and morality for God to form my soul into what I am today. This might be the single most important task of parenthood―to lead by example, to elicit emulation. You see, you don’t have to be taught not to steal if you see your father chase down a thief and throw him to the ground to be hauled off to jail. When I saw this, I was compelled to stay on his side of the law. I always loved the Bible stories he read to us at night, so I just naturally grew up with a desire to be a godly man and to be the same kind of dad for my kids. So, show those boys that you are on top of the situation—that you can diagnose a disease and save a sick cow, or you make that hard sale that propels the company into the big time, put a beautiful finish on an old truck, or cheerfully deliver the mail on time. Make them proud to be their father’s son.

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Hands-On Boys

The Otto Brothers — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 11:25:20 +0000

Boys have a natural inclination to want to investigate, discover, and build. Every parent, including single moms, can answer this call by providing for their son some junk…yep, you read it correctly…junk. Allow your boys time and space to build things out of cardboard boxes, discarded wood, nails, hinges, wheels, rope, gears, motors, bikes etc. “Junk” is several steps up from Legos, Lincoln Logs, Erector Sets, and similar prefabricated learning toys. It’s more like real life, where it doesn’t all fit together so perfectly and you have to use your imagination to improvise. And it never gets boring. Real stuff has to be cut and drilled, sanded and fitted, carved and shaped, glued and clamped, torn down, tied together, rebuilt and bolted in, cleaned up and soldered, welded, sanded and painted. And the great thing about boys creating something out of junk is that they are allowed to make a wrong cut, or some sort of “oops”, without wasting what would otherwise be expensive and important material. There is no condemnation in failure. Messing with junk is an inexpensive way to allow them to develop confidence and creative imagination. Furthermore, when a boy is consumed with his latest project, he will not be wanting to watch television or play some electronic game. He will be highly motivated from daylight to dark, rising early to “get back to work.” I was recently speaking with my older brother Chris, whose parenting I highly respect, and he recalled his early experiences of “playing“ with junk as a kid and how he developed strong mechanical skills at an early age. So I asked him to write about it and to tell us what he’s now doing with his six boys. Chris Otto writes: When I was a kid, my mom used to give me old junk appliances, radios, blenders and all sorts of stuff to take apart. I remember that, at first, I could never figure out how to get the stuff open, so I would take a hammer and break it to see what was inside. I didn’t understand what all the different stuff was, but I remember I liked breaking the old tubes inside TVs because they made a loud pop (Later they told me that was pretty dangerous.) The junk kept arriving, and in time I learned how I could get it apart with a screwdriver and other simple hand tools. As I continued, I learned to pull off switches and buttons to make my own inventions, like an electric shocker doorknob to surprise my younger brother (Later they told me that was pretty dangerous, also.) As I got older, my interest shifted to cars and motors. I knew very little about how an engine worked, but was offered the opportunity to work for a well-respected mechanic who lived nearby. I started out just washing parts and cleaning up, but before long there was a blue AMC Hornet that came into the shop. I will never forget it. It started up, but it ran rough and choppy. My boss diagnosed the problem and did a lot of work on the motor, expecting to solve the trouble. But still, it continued rough and choppy. Twice this happened, and the second time my boss got mad and took a trip into town to get something, leaving me there alone with the car. As I sat there thinking it over, I considered what I knew about how an engine worked, and what might be happening. Then it occurred to me, “Maybe the exhaust is plugged!” So I proceeded to disconnect the exhaust to see what would happen. Sure enough, I was right. I had solved the problem, and gained the respect of my boss when he returned. Those were important years for me, even though I didn’t pursue a career as a mechanic. When people hear about the many things like this that I have done, they say, “How did you know that?” But as I’ve thought about it, it’s really not so much about experience and knowledge as it is confidence, confidence I had gained much earlier, through tinkering with old appliances. What happens then when the microwave oven doesn’t go on, or water doesn’t come out when you turn the handle at the sink? The standard answer is “Time to buy a new microwave!” and “Call the plumber.” I know many of you are thinking or saying, “I have more important things to do with my time.” But your sons are not going to develop confidence and self-reliance in practical living if they are not exposed to creative repair and construction. There will be many broken items that we dads cannot fix, but at least we will know what went wrong, and we will not be at the complete mercy of the repairman. The first response that runs through the mind of a man when the microwave doesn’t come on should be, “Let’s open it up and see what’s wrong with it,” not “I wonder how much a new one will cost me?” Father, and even single moms, you may protest that you are too ignorant to fix anything. Don’t be afraid to do something just because you have never done it before. Start out with some of your old junk, like a broken vacuum cleaner, blender, food processor, or fan. If you don’t have any of this stuff and you don’t want to wait around for yours to stop working, talk to a friend or neighbor or go to a second-hand store or a garage sale and buy something just to “tinker with it”. If you have a friend who is a bit handier with repairing things, he’s likely to be able to answer your questions or steer you in the right direction. Try setting apart a couple hours every week just to tinker together on a project with your boys. We do this a couple times a month on Saturday mornings. We invite any young boy who has any desire whatsoever to work in the shop with us. We have done things like fixing the recoil on a chainsaw, taking apart old appliances, pulling the motor out of a truck, tearing apart a small V-6 engine and learning how all the parts work together. We’ve also built a basement bedroom; and currently we’re tearing a Jeep down to its frame and rebuilding it. Tim Otto writes: My brother Chris went on to tell me a story about his two oldest boys, Zach and Sam, ages 14 and 12: A woman from church pulled into their driveway with a couple boxes of brake pads, asking if they could help fix the brakes on her car. Zack and Sam jacked up the car, and totally completed the brake job from start to finish, as my brother watched in his clean church clothes. “I didn’t get a spot of dirt on me,” he recalled with a grin. “They really did it all. All I did was make sure all the bolts were tight enough when they were done.” Not every boy is going to choose to work with his hands when he is grown, but I contend that it’s a much more constructive way to raise boys than allowing them to “play” with those “sugar-toys” I see advertised out there. I’ve generally kept that candy-colored trash and those electronic nuisance-toys out of my house. I think it creates a buzz that runs contrary to natural order. Besides, the abundance of it in a home leaves less room for a child to be creative with scraps of wood, cardboard, or other available resources. Recently, my 9-year-old boy wanted to give his sisters a ride around the driveway in the wheelbarrow, but he found that it was still a little too big for him. So he went ahead and made his own wheelbarrow out of some scrap wood and a junk wagon wheel. He was pretty tickled to show me what he had done, and I savored the revelation of his spawning ingenuity. My friend’s son (13 years old) showed me the beginnings of a pontoon boat he’s building out of wood from his dad’s sawmill. His first attempt sank to the bottom of the creek, but he’s back at it, working out a better design. These boys are being taught to use real tools and materials, overcome difficult obstacles, and to solve real problems. If you see the value of raising “hands-on boys”, then be a “hands-on dad”. When a parent allows their child’s course to be set by the wind of chance, the current of the Nile, or the vapor of mere academics, they’re either praying for an unlikely miracle or are guilty of neglect. So, train up your boys in the way they should go, and a few positive experiences can lead to a few thousand more. Watch over them. Teach them to be safe. Help give them what they need to succeed, and let their appetite for manhood begin!

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Burning Coals

Steven Brooks — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 11:35:31 +0000

My family sat around a bonfire a few nights ago. After several hours, the fire died down, and Mom took the little ones inside to prepare for bed. I stayed behind with my 12-year-old son in order to secure the fire. He began poking the bed of coals, causing the coals to glow redder and redder. As I stared into the red-hot embers, I remembered a Scripture found in Proverbs 6, and I asked my son, “Could you take one of those burning sticks and hold it in your lap?” He, of course, answered that he could not because he would catch fire. Then I asked him, “Could you walk on the coals?” Again he replied, “No, my feet would be burned.” So, standing there in the dark, staring into the glowing coals, I quoted the passage and took the opportunity to teach my son that God says when a man takes a woman who is not his wife, he will be burned, and the dishonor will follow him for the rest of his life. I am trying to prepare my son for the temptations he will face in just five or six years. I believe that impromptu teaching like this will make a difference when the time comes. Proverbs 6: 23-33 “For the commandment is a lamp; and the law is light; and reproof of instruction are the way of life: To keep thee from the evil woman, from the flattery of the tongue of a strange woman. Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids. For by means of a whorish woman a man is brought to a piece of bread: and the adulteress will hunt for the precious life. Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Can one go upon hot coals, and his feet not be burned? So he that goeth in to his neighbor’s wife; whosoever toucheth her shall not be innocent. Men do not despise a thief, if he steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry; But if he be found, he shall restore sevenfold; he shall give all the substance of his house. But whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding: he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul. A wound and dishonour shall he get; and his reproach shall not be wiped away.” Ps 111:10 “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: a good understanding have all they that do his commandments: his praise endureth for ever.”

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