Chris Crowe - Fatherhood, Football, and Turning Forty

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 95-76157

ISBN 0-88494-989-3

First Printing, 1995

Printed in the United States of America

For all the good men and fathers who have taught me what it means to be a husband and father, and for Elizabeth, who has put up with me as Ive learned.

Disclaimer

I am not a General Authority, nor am I related to or intimately acquainted with one. (But I did shake hands with President Kimball on two separate occasions.) I am not a bishop or former bishop. I did not serve a mission, and I dont have any pioneer heritage. I have no professional sports background; Ive never made or starred in a movie, written or recorded a song, won any awards, secured a patent, invented something, or published a best-seller. Likewise I am not a motivational expert, a counselor, an Eagle Scout, a millionaire, a surgeon, a lawyer, a dentist, a carpet layer, interior designer, plumber, or anyone else you might want to seek out for serious advice.

Im just a father to four children and a husband to Elizabeth, and I teach Gospel Doctrine and try, but havent yet managed, to get 100 percent home teaching regularly.

That does not mean that I dont like talking about myself. I love telling other people what Ive done and what I think, but I know most of it is merely pleasant diversion, a little friendly hot air.

Anyway, youre welcome to read on. But dont get your hopes up.

The Triple Threat: Priesthood, Husbandhood, Fatherhood

Id been a member of the Church a scant twelve months and twenty-six days when Liz and I married, hardly enough time to get much serious gospel study done. And being preoccupied, as I was, with college classes, marriage preparations, and the growing pressure of showing affection to my fiance in ways that wouldnt lead to trouble, Id learned barely enough to earn a temple recommend.

After more than two decades, my understanding of the gospel has increased, but I still feel stupid, even illiterate, in many gospel and scriptural conversations. I havent memorized any scriptures. I dont have seminary or mission stories to tell. And, maybe because of my gentile background, Ive never really been interested in gospel mysteries and Church politics, topics that seemingly occupy the thoughts and conversations of many. I do try to read the Ensign and the scriptures, to stay awake in sacrament meeting and general conference, and to prepare for my Sunday School class. That has helped, but my knowledge of the Church and gospel remains pretty basic and practical.

In the last twenty years, though, I have learned a lot about being a Mormon male, and, believe me, its no picnic. Married Mormon men are perpetually prodded by a trident, the three-pronged dilemma of responsibilities: priesthood, husbandhood, and fatherhood. In lesson manuals and sacrament talks, these three never conflict, rarely overwhelm, but in real life we all know they can leave us feeling as helpless and hung up as a gigged frog.

Shortly after I got married, I learned about the tripartite duties in a priesthood meeting of the BYU 87th Branch in the basement of one of the buildings of Wymount Terrace, the married student housing at BYU. Our branch president was James Killian, a local seminary teacher and father to more children than I could conceive of at the time, a man who understood very well what a branch full of new husbands and fathers needed to learn. So one Sunday morning, he taught us that we were patriarchs, at least patriarchs of our own homes. As such, we were responsible for our own temporal and spiritual welfare, that of our wives, and, when the time came, that of our children. No problem, my newly wed self thought. I can do that. Easy.

And it was easy at first. The honeymoon afterglow combined with an unfettered simple life without children to build a false sense of complacency, an overconfidence. But in time you learn its a heavy calling, and it never seems to get easier. At first, you just have to worry about yourself and your wife. Pretty soon, you add a baby, then another, and another, and another (and for some men, many, many others). These kids need food and clothing and discipline and money and training and help with homework and driving lessons and chaperoning and talks about sex and encouragement and support and spankings and friends and merit badges and priesthood blessings and hobbies and vacations and medicine and toys and beds and blankets and books and magazines and And ANd AND... Children become a kind of reverse cornucopia, perpetually sucking up all the material and emotional resources of their parents.

And youre constantly nagged by the fear that youre not doing this priesthood-husbandhood-fatherhood thing right, that your stupidity and foibles are ruining your kids. When you have teenagers, this fear increases, in part because they regularly point out your foibles and stupidity. The insecurity gets worse when youre around families whose kids seem, compared to yours, practically perfect in every way. You pray to God for inspiration on how to raise them, how to help them, how to be a righteous parent, but the answers come slowly, obscurely, no brighter than the dim and shaky beam of the flashlight you keep forgetting to buy new batteries for. No matter what you do, no matter how good your intentions are, the kids continue to grow up, imperfect and human. You know, of course, that their imperfections are not your fault, that the little agonies they endure in school and in adolescent society are unavoidable and necessary, and that these creatures who were once helpless but perfect babes and later became the six- , seven- , and eight-year-olds with iron-clad testimonies of your infallibility now question your common sense regularly. Yet you remain hopeful, prayerful that when the hormones raging in their arteries subside in seven or eight years, theyll still be on the right path, happy and successful. Coping with all this as a father is more difficult than trying to kiss your thirteen-year-old son on the cheek in public.

The responsibilities dont end with children. Once youve got a child or two, additional church responsibilities start coming your way. A little home teaching at first, then youre thrown to the Boy Scouts or the Young Men program and the discretionary hours fly away like a pack of ravenous deacons to a buffet table. The elders quorum waits to nab you as soon as youre turned loose by the youth programs, and after that, well, stake missions, Sunday School, Primary, Cub Scouts, the activities committee, bishoprics, and, for an unlucky few, the big B-job: Bishop. You dont mind these callings, because you recognize and appreciate the blessings such service brings, but theyre an added and distracting burden to your other duties.

Committed as you are to your church duties, you smack head on into the first of the married Mormon male conflicts. Do you spend a jillion hours a week with the teachers quorum and Varsity Scouts, or do you stay home evenings to read with your kids and play a little basketball with them after dinner? Do you go on camp outs every month and leave your wife alone with the kids, again and again? Do you spend your one and only precious week of summer vacation chaperoning girls camp instead of taking your family on a trip to visit grandparents? And if you do choose to spend time with your kids instead of your church calling, how do you handle the inevitable guilt that follows? When you miss weeknight church meetings to watch your daughters play soccer, are you a worthless slouch in the eyes of the bishop? Of the Lord?