Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters

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Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters Page 1

by Meg Meeker




  From the bestselling author of Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters comes an exciting new devotional with weekly reflections on how to spend more constructive, enjoyable time with your daughter. Now available everywhere books and ebooks are sold!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Chapter One - You Are the Most Important Man in Her Life

  Sexual Activity

  Depression

  Alcohol

  Drugs

  Media Use (TV, computers, DVD, video games, music)

  Young Girls

  Older Girls

  Chapter Two - She Needs a Hero

  Leadership

  Perseverance

  Chapter Three - You Are Her First Love

  Words

  Fences

  Silence

  Time

  Will

  Words, Fences, Silence, Time, and Will: What Difference Do They Really Make?

  Chapter Four - Teach Her Humility

  Humility Makes Her Feel Significant

  Humility Strengthens Her Relationships

  Humility Keeps Her Balanced

  Humility Keeps Her Living in Reality

  Chapter Five - Protect Her, Defend Her (and use a shotgun if necessary)

  Institute a Defense Plan

  Protect Her from Sexual Activity

  Depression as an STD

  Summing Up

  What to Do

  Chapter Six - Pragmatism and Grit: Two of Your Greatest Assets

  Why Your Daughter Needs Your Pragmatism

  Teach Her to Use Grit

  Keep Your Family Together

  Chapter Seven - Be the Man You Want Her to Marry

  See It, Do It, Teach It

  Good Men Are Hard to Find

  People Come First

  Finding Balance for Yourself—and for Her

  Chapter Eight - Teach Her Who God Is

  A Father’s Wisdom

  Why God?

  Why You

  What to Do

  Chapter Nine - Teach Her to Fight

  Train Her Early

  Clarify Your Morals (without apology)

  Chapter Ten - Keep Her Connected

  Work, Play, and Plan

  The Lonely Teen

  Surviving Stress

  Afterword

  Bibliography

  Acknowledgements

  Notes

  Index

  Copyright Page

  This book is dedicated to all the great men in my life.

  To Walt and “T,” you are far more than I deserve.

  To my father, Wally, thank you for my life and for making it what it is today.

  To my brothers Mike and Bob, you are extraordinary men and I love you both very much.

  Introduction

  In September 1979, my father spoke a single sentence that changed my life. I had graduated from Mt. Holyoke College earlier in the year and had been rejected from several medical schools, so I was living at home pondering Plan B. One evening, on my way upstairs, I overheard my father talking to a friend on the phone. This was unusual, for my father was not a very social man and a phone conversation with a friend was noteworthy. I stopped outside the door of his study, which was slightly ajar, and listened.

  “Yes,” he was saying. “They really do grow up fast, don’t they? I’m excited to tell you that my daughter, Meg, will be starting medical school next fall. She’s not quite sure where, though.”

  My head went hot. I thought I was going to pass out. What was he saying? Medical school? I’d just received a handful of rejections. I’ll be going to medical school next fall? How can he say that? What does he know that I don’t?

  His words alone didn’t change the course of my life. His tone, his inflection, and his confidence had an amazing impact as well. My father believed something about me that I couldn’t believe myself. Not only did he believe it, but he, a doctor himself, put his reputation on the line in front of his friend.

  As I backed away from the door, my heart rate doubled. I felt thrilled and excited, because my father’s confidence gave me hope. Going to medical school had been my dream since I was a young teenager. And sure enough, in fall 1980, I started medical school, just as my father had said. He called me routinely and asked specifics about my classes. Was I understanding gross anatomy? Was I spending enough time on histology? Did I need slides to look at just for fun? It didn’t matter what my response was; he packaged them up and sent them to my apartment so that I would have something interesting to do on Friday nights, which, of course, were study nights.

  Don’t misunderstand. My father was not a man who needed to live his life through his children. As a matter of fact, many times he discouraged me from going into medicine because he quite accurately predicted the disaster and misery of managed care medicine. I wanted to go. Did I want to because I wanted to please him? Not really. I didn’t need to do that. I wanted to go because I really wanted to be like his friend—an orthopedic surgeon. This man let me come into the operating room and watch surgery for hours at a time. That was the coolest thing I had ever seen, and I wanted to be able to do it.

  What my father gave me was confidence. Since I revered him as a giant in the medical field and a giant in our home, I knew that what he believed was right. It didn’t matter what he said, I still believed he was right.

  And he gave me a belief in myself. He communicated to me, I don’t remember exactly how, that I could do anything I wanted to do. There weren’t many women in his medical school class, he said, but boy were they good. They were good, and I could be too.

  My father always made sure that I knew that he loved me. He was an eccentric man, quiet, antisocial, and extremely smart. He published medical papers in different languages and kidded that only peculiar people became pathologists like himself. But he loved me. I was his daughter and that was a very important thing to be. Did he tell me often? No. He didn’t talk much. So how did I know? I knew because I heard him worry about me to my mother. I watched him cry when my brother and I left home for college. He came to many of my athletic events but missed many more. But that didn’t matter. I knew that he thought I was terrific at sports. (In fact, he believed me to be much better than I really was, but I didn’t want to square him away on that one.) I knew he loved me because he made our entire family go on vacations together. Most of the time I hated going, particularly when I was a teen, but he made me go anyway. He knew something I didn’t. He knew that we needed time to be together. In the same camp. In the same dining room. On the same hiking trails or in the same canoes.

  My dad protected me fiercely, to the point where I was almost too embarrassed to date anyone. He was a hunter and he let my boyfriends know that. They saw the moose head on the wall as they entered our house and my dad made sure that they knew who put that head up there. He thought he was being funny; I thought he was embarrassing me. But he protected me, not from predatory boys or monsters, but from myself. I was young and too trusting of people and he knew that long before I did.

  My father wasn’t a good talker, and many times he didn’t listen well, either. He was sometimes distracted and aloof. We used to jog together when I was in medical school, and he would ask me the same questions repeatedly while we ran. He never heard the answers—he was always, always thinking of something else. I didn’t care. I just repeated myself.

  My mother listened to our problems much better than my father did, but I knew who I would ask for help if my life or health were ever threatened—my dad. He was tough, he was serious, he intensely loved his family, and the most important job he held, in his mind, was to make sure that his famil
y was cared for. We were, in fact, very well cared for.

  My father is elderly now and these days I spend more time caring for him than he for me. But I know the ropes because he showed me quite well. We no longer jog together. His scoliosis causes him to shuffle along, his spine resembling a capital C, and he still repeats questions to me, no longer because he’s thinking of other things, but because his memory is sliding. He has a few remaining wisps of white hair, but his eccentricity, his antisocial bent, and his love for me remain the same. He is a good man.

  Most of you out there are good men as well, but you are good men who have been derided by a culture that does not care for you, that, in terms of the family, has ridiculed your authority, denied your importance, and tried to fill you with confusion about your role. But I can tell you that fathers change lives, as my father changed mine. You are natural leaders, and your family looks to you for qualities that only fathers have. You were made a man for a reason, and your daughter is looking to you for guidance that she cannot get from her mother.

  What you say in a sentence, communicate with a smile, or do with regard to family rules has infinite importance for your daughter.

  I want you to see yourself through her eyes. And I don’t want this just for her sake, but for yours, because if you could see yourself as she sees you, even for ten minutes, your life would never be the same. When you are a child, your parents are the center of your world. If your mother is happy, your day is good. If your father is stressed, your stomach is knotted all day long at school.

  Your daughter’s world is smaller than yours, not just physically, but emotionally as well. It is more fragile and tender because her character is being kneaded as bread dough on a cutting board. Every day she awakens, your hands pick her up and plop her back down on the board to begin the massage. How you knead, every single day, will change who she is.

  You and I have baked and we are crusty. Life has hurt us, been gracious to us, and has almost killed us. But we have survived, not because our parents continue to love us but because we have come to need someone—a friend, a spouse, or a child—to continue to care about us. Because a person who cares about us exists, we can get up in the morning.

  Your daughter gets up in the morning because you exist. You were here first and she came into being because of you. The epicenter of her tiny world is you. Friends, family members, teachers, professors, or coaches will influence her to varying degrees, but they won’t knead her character. You will. Because you are her dad.

  Dads, you are far more powerful than you think you are. My goal in writing this book is to show you how to use your power to improve your life with your daughter, and by doing so to make your life remarkably richer, more rewarding, and more beneficial to those you love. The concepts presented in the following pages are profoundly simple. But we all know how difficult it is to implement simple truths. We know that we should love better. Or be more patient. Or be more courageous, or diligent, or faithful. But can we?

  In part, it’s a matter of perspective. Loving your daughter better might seem complicated to you, but it’s very simple to her. Being a hero to your daughter sounds daunting, but actually it can be quite easy. Protecting her and teaching her about God, sex, and humility doesn’t require a degree in psychology. It just means being a dad.

  I have not chosen attributes of fathers to discuss randomly. I have watched and listened to your daughters for many years and have heard what they say about you. I have talked to countless fathers. I have treated daughters and counseled families. I have read psychiatry texts, research papers, psychology journals, religious studies, and pediatric journals. Doing this has been my job. But I will tell you that no research paper, no textbook diagnosis, no instructions can begin to change a young girl’s life as dramatically as even a handful of interactions with her father. Nothing.

  From your daughter’s perspective, it is never too late to strengthen her relationship with you. So be bold. Your daughter wants your guidance and support; she wants and needs a strong bond with you. And, as all successful fathers know, you need a strong bond with her. This book will show how to strengthen that bond, or rebuild it, and use it to shape your daughter’s life—and yours—for the better.

  Chapter One

  You Are the Most Important Man in Her Life

  Men, good men: We need you. We—mothers, daughters, and sisters—need your help to raise healthy young women. We need every ounce of masculine courage and wit you own, because fathers, more than anyone else, set the course for a daughter’s life.

  Your daughter needs the best of who you are: your strength, your courage, your intelligence, and your fearlessness. She needs your empathy, assertiveness, and self-confidence. She needs you.

  Our daughters need the support that only fathers can provide—and if you are willing to guide your daughter, to stand between her and a toxic culture, to take her to a healthier place, your rewards will be unmatched. You will experience the love and adoration that can come only from a daughter. You will feel a pride, satisfaction, and joy that you can know nowhere else.

  After more than twenty years of listening to daughters—and doling out antibiotics, anti-depressants, and stimulants to girls who have gone without a father’s love—I know just how important fathers are. I have listened hour after hour to young girls describe how they vomit in junior high bathrooms to keep their weight down. I have listened to fourteen-year-old girls tell me they have to provide fellatio—which disgusts them—in order to keep their boyfriends. I’ve watched girls drop off varsity tennis teams, flunk out of school, and carve initials or tattoo cult figures onto their bodies—all to see if their dads will notice.

  And I have watched daughters talk to fathers. When you come in the room, they change. Everything about them changes: their eyes, their mouths, their gestures, their body language. Daughters are never lukewarm in the presence of their fathers. They might take their mothers for granted, but not you. They light up—or they cry. They watch you intensely. They hang on your words. They hope for your attention, and they wait for it in frustration—or in despair. They need a gesture of approval, a nod of encouragement, or even simple eye contact to let them know you care and are willing to help.

  When she’s in your company, your daughter tries harder to excel. When you teach her, she learns more rapidly. When you guide her, she gains confidence. If you fully understood just how profoundly you can influence your daughter’s life, you would be terrified, overwhelmed, or both. Boyfriends, brothers, even husbands can’t shape her character the way you do. You will influence her entire life because she gives you an authority she gives no other man.

  Many fathers (particularly of teen girls) assume they have little influence over their daughters—certainly less influence than their daughters’ peers or pop culture—and think their daughters need to figure out life on their own. But your daughter faces a world markedly different from the one you did growing up: it’s less friendly, morally unmoored, and even outright dangerous. After age six, “little girl” clothes are hard to find. Many outfits are cut to make her look like a seductive thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl trying to attract older boys. She will enter puberty earlier than girls did a generation or two ago (and boys will be watching as she grows breasts even as young as age nine). She will see sexual innuendo or scenes of overt sexual behavior in magazines or on television before she is ten years old, whether you approve or not. She will learn about HIV and AIDS in elementary school and will also probably learn why and how it is transmitted.

  When my son was in the fourth grade at a small parochial school, the teacher gave his class a science assignment. Each student was to write a report on any one of the infectious diseases from a list she gave them. My son chose to write about HIV and AIDS. (This was a popular choice because it is so widely talked about.) He learned about the virus and about drug injections and medications used to battle it. After I picked him up at school, we stopped by the grocery store. As I pulled into the parking lot,
he was telling me about his findings. Then he said, “Mom, I just don’t get it. I know HIV is really dangerous and that people who get AIDS die. And I get, you know, how men and women give it to each other, but what’s this stuff about men giving it to other men? I just don’t see how that can happen.”

  I took a deep breath. Now, I am not a squeamish person. I am a doctor. I’m used to talking to patients about sex-related health risks. And I believe strongly in treating all patients the same, whether they are heterosexual or homosexual. But here’s what grieved me: I know from child psychology that it was too soon to detail specific sexual acts (beyond simple intercourse) to my son. It was one thing to teach him how children are conceived. It was quite another to talk about sexual acts that he cannot understand and should not be confronted with at his age. I felt as though his right to innocence had been invaded. I never withhold information, because knowledge is important, but timing is crucial. Shocking young children breaks their healthy sense of modesty. That modesty serves a protective function. There, in the grocery store parking lot, I spoke as gently as I could, but my son was rightly upset. This knowledge and the mental pictures it drew for him taught him something he didn’t want to know, and was not and could not be prepared to know at his age. In today’s world, we adults do a terrible job of letting kids be kids. Our children are forced prematurely into an adult world that even our own parents or grandparents might have considered pornographic.

  When your daughter hits fifth or sixth grade, she will learn what oral sex is. Before too long, she will have a pretty decent chance of seeing someone engaged in it, as the new trend in sexual behavior among adolescents is public display. She will feel comfortable saying the word condom and will know what they look like because she has either seen them on television or at school. Many well-meaning teachers will pride themselves on speaking openly and honestly to her about sex, determined to break the taboo about adults talking to kids about sexual activity. The problem is, many health (sex) educators are woefully behind in the information they use—and this isn’t their fault. Their materials are often outdated. And many celebrities don’t help. Sharon Stone, for instance, recently remarked to the teens of our nation that they should participate in oral sex rather than intercourse because, I guess, she believes it to be safer. Does she understand that any sexually transmitted disease (STD) a kid can get from intercourse, she/he can get from oral sex? I doubt it. Sure, she probably felt that she was on the cutting edge of the new era of sex education, but the problem is, her assumptions are outdated and she hasn’t taken the time to learn the scientific facts. She doesn’t see what we doctors see. Yet she and celebrities like her reach millions of teens with their various messages of “safe sex,” which unfortunately aren’t safe.

 

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