Leadership Lessons from Foolish Father Coaches

I cherish so much about our children. Through my many years of parenting, this is what I realized that I treasured the most: each relationship. Oh, I admit it's nice when they scored points in a basketball game, excelled at a swim meet, or gracefully performed a ballet dance routine. I'm pleased when their grades revealed above-average scores, or when I observed the effort put into a home project. And of course it's flattering when people comment how nice they looked or how respectful they were. But what really tripped my trigger and renewed my parental energy - after returning from a business trip, or attending a swim meet, playing taxi driver, or setting curfew - was a loving smile, a hug, a high five, and the four cherished words: "I love you, Dad." I became keenly aware how my actions, words, tone of voice, or nonverbals affected the loving, caring, and mutually respectful relationship we enjoyed as a family. As a father, I failed at times to uphold my end of the responsibility. There were situations when I crushed my children's spirits. This was illustrated frequently while my kids were playing on the flag football teams I coached. It didn't take long for me to realize that the definition of a father-coach is someone who expects his kids to be everything he wasn't. I upheld high and sometimes unrealistic expectations. I even found it easy to justify my demands by attempting to motivate them to be the best they could be. However, more than once I overstepped my parental privileges. After blowing up at them for less than perfect play, the joy of winning would drain from their faces. They stood motionless and speechless as Dad continued to drain the power from their self-esteem batteries. I knew I'd blown it, but I continued to justify my outburst and dig myself into a deeper hole. Occasionally, realizing what a fool I had been, I would later look into their fearful and discouraged faces and say, “I was wrong, I'm sorry for blowing up at you. You worked hard in that game and I failed to recognize you for all the good things you did. Please forgive me." Their response would touch my heart, and my eyes would fill with tears. "It's okay, Dad. We know you love us." The only way to heal a damaged spirit is to swallow the parental pride and say, "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Please forgive me." Failure to bring healing when you've been unfair or hurtful can breed anger for years to come. Effective leadership is based on healthy relationships. When was the last time you told your child or anyone else you lead, "I'm sorry for anything I have ever said or done that has hurt you?" Truth@Life can help. Call 248-396-6255 or email me at curtis.songer@gmail.com for a FREE consultation. For more info on help I can provide check out http://truthatlife.com/