There was recently a gathering at my church where about a dozen families gathered to meet and share a meal. It was done in typical cafeteria-style where all the food was set on a long table and when it was time to eat, everyone lined up grab a plate and fill it up with a pile of tasty food. This typically wouldn't be anything unusual, but something happened this time that caught my eye and made me really proud of the men in my church.

I've made it a habit of mine to eat last, or as close to last as I can manage. When I was younger, I did this because I wanted to avoid the shame of being the guy with a huge plate of food while other folks had to deal with the scraps and leftovers. As I matured, however, my reason for this habit transitioned from avoiding shame to ensuring the wellbeing of the people around me. Sure, I'd love to have a bite of the strawberry cheesecake, but if all that's left is a few leaves of lettuce and the crumbs of the croutons, I'll be ok.

For this particular meal, I saw that the line was shrinking so I got up and walked to the end of the line to wait my turn. When I got there, I noticed that almost every other man present was also at the end of the line.

It made me so proud to know that I was among men that shared my values and would choose to put others before themselves. That's a group of men that I want to be associated with. Men who, without any external influence or coordination, choose to put themselves at the end of the chow line to make sure that their families are taken care of.

I know this may sound very touchy-feely and like I'm advocating that we don't keep score and just let the kids play the game, have fun, and give everyone a trophy. That's how I felt about it at first too. But as I listened to Larry talk more about it, I began to see the wisdom of what he was saying.

If, when a kid wins or is successful, we praise him for his intelligence or strength or inherent ability, we're telling him that he succeeded because of those things. When he fails or loses, his mind is going to connect that loss with a lack of those characteristics and he'll be discouraged from trying again and risking further degrading those characteristics in himself.

If, instead, we praise his effort whether or not he's successful, we're connecting the reward of our approval with having worked hard. This will encourage him to keep working hard and getting better. This pursuit of hard work and self-improvement will naturally lead to success in whatever he's trying to accomplish.

I'm not suggesting that we should tell our sons that winning or losing isn't important. The desire to win and be the best is the reason that we compete. It feels good when you win and it sucks when you get beaten.

To be and stay a winner, however, you have to work hard. You have to keep trying and getting better. If we can cultivate that mindset in our sons, then we're setting them up for success.

Celebrate their success. Share their disappointment with failure. In either case, praise their effort and you'll be motivating them to get back after it.

I'm a pretty motivated and driven person. I like to set and accomplish goals. I admire people that are successful at what they do and it's easy for me to get fixated on achieving that level of success. But that's where I consistently get it wrong. That's when I get distracted and I lose my focus on what is really important to me. What I'm really passionate about.

My Family.

There are so many examples of people who work hard and sacrifice to be successful and they do awesome stuff. They've earned every bit of success they get. Good for them! When I see their example, I get motivated and want to get after it just like they did.

Every time that motivation hits me to jump up and start that business or work long hours to get that promotion and succeed, I realize that to do that means that I have to sacrifice time with my family. At the very least, I'll have to give the best of myself to achieving that success instead of giving it to my wife and kids. When I consider what it takes to achieve that level of success, I back down, unwilling to make that sacrifice.

The Spiral
This is where I get down on myself. "You're just scared of the hard work," I say to myself. "Don't hide behind your family! Get after it!" This kind of self-talk makes me disappointed with myself and I get really frustrated.

The feeling of cowardice and shame that overwhelms me when I make the choice to set aside the challenge of accomplishing the success that I admire in other people is crushing. I feel like just another voice in the crowd of wannabes that wants success without effort. I try to deal with those feelings by continuing to look for a way to be successful that doesn't require me to sacrifice my passion, my family. There isn't one. Every dark alley I chase down and rock I look under all promise that success, but each one asks me to give the best of me to it.

This cycle of disappointing myself, feeling like a hypocrite, and being unwilling to make the sacrifices necessary to accomplish professional success consumes my focus and I end up staring at my belly button and feeling sorry for myself.

Yeah, that's right. The heart behind that voice that says "Fuck you!" in my mind is one of love. It wants what's best for me and wants me to succeed. It wants me to remember to focus on the thing that really matters and pour my energies into that. That voice wants to encourage and grow the same things that I care about.

Reset
Maybe one day, I'll run a business or travel the world and that will be awesome. But for right now, I need to remember to focus all that energy into my family. The same drive, motivation, planning, strategy, effort, and sacrifice that I know I can apply to my professional life needs to be redirected into my family life. I need to set goals and build a vision for my family. I need to train and grow my kids. I need to love my wife.

I need to achieve success with my family.

​My job helps me succeed at home, not the other way around.

We were living in Germany when my oldest son was born. Somewhere around the time when he was a year old, maybe a year and a half, my wife and I were volunteering with the youth group and we took them all on a trip to a little village. We spent the first part of the day walking around the little town and getting a tour from a guy that was dressed in a period costume.

We stopped for lunch on the steps in front of a church in the town square which was maybe 50 square yards of cobblestone. Birds were pecking around trying to find a meal from the crumbs that fell from the student's sandwiches and my oldest son was enthralled by them. I had been carrying him in one of those saddle backpacks while we toured the town and he had done a good job not making a fuss about it, but he was ready to run and play.

I freed him from the backpack and told him that he needed to stay nearby where I could see him. He immediately started chasing the birds as they hunted for their meal amongst the cobblestones. He ran after them squealing with delight and I and about a dozen students and several other adults watched him enjoy his simple delight.

Smack!
Then it happened. One particular cobblestone was set a bit higher than the rest and it caught his foot as he waddled after the birds. He landed on his face and the smack echoed around the square. Everyone there with me cringed and I jumped up to run over and tend my wounded son certain that I would have to deal with at least a bloody nose.

I was about halfway to him when he pushed himself up and looked over at me. In that moment, I could see that he wasn't sure what to do next. I felt like the look on his face was asking me, "What do I do now? Am I supposed to cry or what?"

Seizing the moment, I took a risk and said, "Oh yeah! Good job! That was awesome!" At the same time I flexed both arms and grunted, a sign that we had used before to show how strong he was. Seeing my response, my son stood himself up, brushed off his pants, flexed his muscles and grunted and carried on chasing the birds.

Everyone laughed and an turned to head back to the steps to finish my sandwich. Internally, I was distraught, but thankful that both my kid was unhurt and that my gamble had paid off.

So What?
That's a fun story and I remember those events very clearly, but so what.

I share it because it illustrates how we respond to the stuff that happens to our sons will greatly influence their reaction to it as well. If we choose to respond based on an assumption that our sons are weak, or incapable of dealing with the situation, then they'll meet our expectations.

Similarly, if we respond with an expectation that they're strong and capable, then they'll still meet our expectations or at least try to. Even if they miss the target, at least they'll be headed in the right direction.

Also, I got lucky when I saw that brief moment where I could see him looking to me for guidance on how to respond to getting a face full of cobblestone. One of the many lessons I learned that day was that I had to be on the lookout for more of those kind of moments. That one was pretty obvious, but how many more are there that I just miss? How many times has he looked to me to see what he should do and I was busy scratching my ass or picking my nose?

I can't always be on point at the top of my dad game, but I know that the stakes are high and I need step up.