On Owning your Faults

To the both of you:

I won't pretend to know who you'll choose to be when you grow up. Either of you. Parents tend to make predictions: to see one trait or another in their children and select this particular trait and say "Look, there he is - there's my little _________ (fill in that blank with whatever you'd like: boxer, librarian, doctor, CEO, salesman.)." And that's mostly fine, but I'll tell ya, it can also be a real trap.

By now, you've gotten to know me and your dad pretty well. And you probably know that we are polar opposites in so many ways. We've picked up a lot of labels along the way: I'm the extrovert, he's the introvert. I'm the creative one, he's the thinker. I'm the party and he's the meditation. I'm the fighter and he's the peacemaker.

And these labels are mostly true. For instance, did you know your dad and I both only got into one fight each as kids? Only one fight for dad (in the third grade) and only one for me (in the first grade).

According to your dad, his one and only brawl went a little like this:

Some kid got mad at him for a reason he wasn't sure of and told him he wanted to fight him. Your dad said no. The kid punched your dad. Your dad walked away. The end.

A natural peacemaker, that dad of yours. Even as a nine year old boy, he knew nothing good came from slugging each other around and he just walked away. And since you know your dad, you know this is a true story - he just seems like the kind to walk away from a fist-fight. He didn't lose face with the other kids, either, because it's not like he lost - he just didn't engage. And that kid never bothered your dad again.

And then there's me. You see, my one and only fight went down just a little differently. There was this boy who liked to chase me around the playground. Everyday, he'd chase me and chase me. And I know what you're thinking: he just liked me, right? Well, he was big and the only other boy to ever chase me in my life was your Uncle Josh. And when he caught me, I usually got pummeled, so I couldn't take the chance with this boy.

Well, one day this big boy caught up to me. And he pulled me to the ground and my skirt flew up. Then he hollered "I can see your underwear" and pointed at my bloomers, laughing. And his friends (who I guess chased him while he chased me. I don't know what first grade boys do.), they all pointed and laughed and I guess that was just too much for me.

So I stood up and punched him in the stomach. And then he doubled over and I kicked him the one place your grandmother told me never to kick my brother. And I kicked him again, and again, and again.

And his friends stopped laughing. And I said, "Don't you ever touch me again. And you're too slow to chase anyone else, so give it up." And I kicked the playground gravel at his face and walked away.

Kids, I'm just a natural fighter. I am. If I feel threatened or see injustice, my natural inclination is to punch and kick and scream my way out of it. It's a reaction, really. It's my instinct.

And I've hated it. Honestly, I wish I could be more like Dad. I wish my first thought was to bring peace. But it isn't.

I've been a slave to anger in the past: I've chained myself to experiences and circumstances that fueled that anger and gave it legitimacy and purpose. And I've seen the world through very angry eyes. But there comes a time in life where you just have to choose whether that does any good anymore. And I am learning, very gradually, it doesn't do any good to fight for fighting's sake.

If I accept this part of myself I hate and see it and know it, I can choose something else.  I can learn to appreciate the fight within me and I can train myself to use it wisely. Slowly, my anger and fight has turned into something else - a passion for helping and nurturing and growing. It's my source of innovation and allows to take some pretty big risks I'd otherwise be too afraid to take.

Your dad and I have tried really hard not to give you two labels. We don't want to you think you're one way or another because that's what we've identified in you. We want you to choose who you are - what parts of yourself to cultivate and train and what parts need refinement. That's up to you. All we're planning to do is support you in your journey to craft yourself and give you an "attaboy" or an "are you sure?" along the way.

The fight within me is still there. It'll never go away, and now I really don't want it to. I like knowing there's a fire in my belly. So, if you're like me - if you've got it, too, don't worry. You can choose to use your fight for something good and beautiful.

I just want you to know you don't have to be a slave to your faults. And you were created to use those faults, not just deny them or cast them aside because they're not manly or ladylike or proper or even beneficial. Because maybe they're not faults at all. Maybe they're just trainable traits you can use for the good.