He was stuck. Eyes wide, clenched jaw, and no words. He couldn’t think clearly, let alone speak.

After watching him mess with his sister and ignore her cries for him to stop, I stepped in. “What just happened?” I said, looking him straight in the eyes. They both knew I had been standing there the whole time. There was no hiding. He was busted.

“What should have happened?”

“What would you like to do now?”

These questions were asked, but no answers were given. I could see that he knew what was wrong, what should have been, and what to do now to repair the breach, but he could not bring himself to say or do it.

We left the room and had another conversation. “Son, I know you know what needs to be done. I can see it in your eyes. You have it in you to do. What keeps you from doing it?” He wasn’t sure. “Ok. Go grab a pen and paper, and go sit at the table until you have written the answer. I want to know what kept you from taking action back there.” I said.

Really what I wanted was to help him process and put words to what was going on inside of his twelve-year-old brain. It felt like a good move. Way to go me!

I went back to watching football and forgot about it. Until about 10 minutes later. He walked over and handed me a folded up piece of paper, and then quickly walked away. I unfolded the note, read it to myself, and then took a deep breath and sighed. I was busted.

What my son wrote hit me on so many levels. Initially I felt like I had been exposed and sucker-punched. And quickly following that was the strong sense of heartbrokenness. And then pride and gratitude rushed over me like a wave.

I’ll paraphrase it like this: “Dad, you make me scared. When I do something wrong I feel intimidated. I want to do the right thing but I am afraid that what I think is the right thing is the wrong thing. I am scared that you will punish me. You make me feel stressed. That’s why.”

Ouch. I’ve been told that I can be intimidating before, and I have a sinking suspicion that the intimidating presence I put on sometimes has been relationally costly. It has led to loneliness, and I do not want fear to be my son’s experience of me.

Wow. That must have been hard to write, and even harder to share. It took guts to put his emotions into words and then be willing to share them with me. This was the first time I’ve experienced him being able to sort through the flooding of his emotions and put words to them. This honesty and self awareness on his part was a gift.

I fought back the defensiveness that wanted to creep up inside of me, and chose curiosity instead.

Why had I developed this intimidating persona? What came to mind took me back to my own 12 year-old self, in 7th grade, being bullied both in school and at church. With no where to belong, and feeling like the weakling of the group, something had to change. It was about that time that I developed a forcefulness to protect me and anyone one else who was being pushed around. This persona was a combination of inner resilience, and an impenetrable shell of strength. This toughness saved me from experiencing the pain of rejection, and could be employed on behalf of others too. I wasn’t ever going to let it happen again, if I could help it. Not on my watch. Not in my house.

But what if that intimidating persona was backfiring? What if it was not serving me anymore? What if the outer shell kept the good things out too?

I stood up and walked to his room, stepped inside, and closed the door. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Would intimidating dad show up and tell him to toughen up?

No. Not today. Not in my house. Not on my watch.

Instead, I teared up, and I thanked my son. I was honest and unguarded with him. I told him I was proud of him stepping into those emotions with honesty and not choosing to bury it. I told him what I was aware of in regards to my intimidating persona, and that he wasn’t wrong. I told him that is not what I wanted to be true.

We hugged. He smiled. He was taller.

While I know my intimidating persona will show up again, I hope that I can notice it in the moment for what it is. And I hope that for the most part my kids instead experiences a gentle and welcoming strength.

What persona have you developed that isn’t serving you well?

Can you have grace with yourself as well as for those you have worn that mask for and against?

What are you aware of today?

__________________

Cody Buriff, Director of Resource Initiatives