I love being a father. It is, perhaps, the greatest joy of my life. I had a tremendous father myself so I know the hard work and the great reward associated with this vocation.
I remember the day my son was born. Side note: those of us who were not blessed with a massive number of offspring know well the predicament of being traditional Catholics and always feeling inferior. I would have taken a hundred kids. God knows that. But good luck shaking off the supposed glances of the other families at the high Mass. but I digress…
My son is truly a blessing and every single day he shows me that he is learning how to follow my example. And I truly hope it is a good example that I’ve set. I go to bed at night asking God to watch over him (and his sister and their mother) and I wake up asking God for the grace to protect them and to teach them. Young Benedict (the name means blessed) shows me that he is getting it. At 15, he is already a young man. He may have to be reminded to shave every now and then but he never falters where it counts.
“Time for confession, son,” I’ll say. “OK, Dad,” comes the reply, without a hint of reservation. “Sung Mass for Corpus Christi, son?” I ask. “Let me just find a pair of long pants,” he says. “Did you hear the one about the new restaurant on the surface of the moon?” I query. “Food is great but there’s no atmosphere,” comes the reply.
He may resemble his mother but this is clearly my boy.
There are, to be sure, areas of interest that separate us. One such area is his love of all things theme park related. My son loves the engineering behind roller coasters. Even here there is much to unite us. I’m not an amusement park guy. However, I love engineering. And for as much as he could tell you about the height, speed, and track composition of any given coaster in the world, he’s terrified to ride them. There’s the link. The old man in me won’t go near a coaster.
And thus the evil in the world tears its ugly head.
On Saturday I came across an article about how one of the biggest amusement park chains in the country is hosting an “All Ages Drag Festival” at every one of their parks this month. It’s Six Flags, by the way. I showed it to my wife. We bought him a season pass to this place, owing to how close one of the parks is to our house. He takes such delight in going out there and just taking it all in.
“Do we tell him now or wait until we get back from our trip?” I asked her.
“Give it a few days,” she said.
Today we broke the news to him. He took it hard. He knew exactly what it meant. He has grown up watching us eschew Target for their bathroom policy, then Walmart and Kroger for their paying-for-abortion policy, and now this.
He tried to find a way.
“We’ve already paid for the pass,” he said. “Couldn’t we just use it up and then stop going?”
We may yet do that (after June of course).
But the thing that struck me was how he took it like a man.
He knows this is war. He knows what this means and how dangerous the situation has become.
In the end, I know he will hate that he can’t go anymore but I also know that he understands why he can’t and that a principled stand is worth more than gold.
Did I do a good job here? Hardly. God gave me a little man and I loved him so much I helped him become a bigger man.
St. Joseph, pray for us!
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 