Mentor Raising A Prophet

It has been a few days I know, but lets just say that I had a snafu back home and it was hard for me to attend the session. How you been? Well me on the other hand, I was thinking of a time where I was afraid of being a father. Do not get me wrong, I love kids to a certain extent but oh man, they can be a handful, especially when you are the one that dictates their every move and motivation.

When I was a little lad, I always thought of the idea of having children and wanting to shove in my stepfather’s face that I loved them equally. I wanted to send out a letter letting my father whom abandoned me know that I recognize my kids and love them dearly. I would never let them go, regardless of how grim it looks in the future, I am a proud dad.

After pregnancy scares involving some of the girls of my past, I still had this stance on my divine promise of being a father of one or two. It did not matter the gender, but sadly that would change in an instant when I was involved in a relationship with a woman that had a child. One day out of the blue, my girlfriend at the time’s son called me “daddy”. My body froze and I had no other idea beyond the moment he called me his “daddy”. A whirlwind of emotions hit my aura.

I wanted this moment but this did not seem they way I wanted it to transpire. I reflect on telling the substitute teacher in college that I just wanted out of life was a big wife, one or two kids, and a house with a car. Fast forward to that exact moment of my ex girl’s son calling me “daddy” just brought me down to my knees in amazement. I did not want to fail him as my father of the past failed me. I did not want to scar him like my stepfather done to me, so it was a big pickle to deal with...get it deal with...never mind.

Next thing I knew, we would break up, her son would wonder where I was, and I would be sitting in a small housing complex in Georgia listening to music concerning fatherhood and precious children in their lives. An argument between my wife and I was apparent, as I did not know my place in the marriage beyond just waiting for the end results. Yet, the news hit that I knew from the jump...my wife was pregnant. The same fear from before came and I blamed a future self for being lost in how to raise a child. You know 9 months of stress and thought being put into this advance parenthood was as a huge wave of events.

I wanted a daughter because I hated the idea of raising a boy after all I been through during childhood, the baby was a boy.

I wanted to be a hard worker with a lot of finances and etc, I was broker than the pavement on the outside of our housing complex.

I wanted to named him something odd, my wife felt the urge of naming him Josiah.

I wanted him to have every single thing a baby would allow, we would have a small baby-shower that some people attended, while others could give a care about.

Talk about odds being in the favor of the ends, but the day came when it was time to be a man. Josiah was born December 24th, 2011. Christmas Eve baby means double the gifts and expectations. Through all of the struggle during birth especially an odd breathing conditioning, Josiah managed to overcome the odds as he squeezed my pinky finger to let me know that all is well and I was going to be an amazing father.

9 years later of blood curling tears, arguments, self doubt, picky eating, growing at an alarming rate, and the three of us trying to figure each other out, I am still wondering why this boy loves me so much. He calls me the best dad, while I feel modest about the whole situation. He holds onto the most oddest of memories, while looking beyond the great memories. He can reflect our time at Burger King, over a trip to Maryland. He appreciates his mother sitting in front of a pool to do back flips, instead of every Christmas in the past. He is such an odd child and we are weird parents, but together we are ONE!

As he prospers in life, my longing for a mentor as a child became clear that I will end up being a mentor to a child that needs guidance so he can be a prophet to the next line of children that will come his way.

This is what I believe is called a village, and I thank God that the village was built through the makers of my wife and I from traumatic childhoods to a better life for our own. I can not wait to see how God has bless a child of his own along with ours…

I thought I would go a little light on the session today, because I been a bit smiley lately. Sometimes, you got to take a step back and realize of what is in front of you. Even though my son can truly be a handful, I hold him close like a security blanket. I mean this is my son, and to this day I wonder why we have so many lost children without a parent to hold them down. Myself included, I just do not understand the method of leaving a child misguided in a land full of vultures. It is like no heart is being put into the future of a child’s growth. From that moment my ex’s son called me “daddy”, I felt bad for him because this was not my calling, but it was somebody else. Yet, in this could world of endless possibilities, sometimes enough is better than nothing. So I hope there is a guidance to the young mentor that needs to become the prophet, for I was not that guidance but my time was well spend to show them the value of a man for the time being...