To be a parent is to live in a constant cacophony of emotion.

The intense joy and fierce protectiveness when you hold your newborn. The exasperation of managing a toddler. The hopefulness as your little boy hits his first single. The inner pain as she shows you her bloody knee. The perplexity of childhood rivalries and shifting loyalties. Confusion, ecstasy, disappointment, anxiety, self-recriminations, pride, grief, fun…every day is a ride with unpredictable twists and turns.

And, <irony> best of all </irony> - there’s no way you can prepare for it, no way you can be adequate, no way you can have the wisdom you need until you’ve pretty much run through the gamut. You can’t possibly be ready for this jumble.

Well, generations before us have taken the plunge, often at a much earlier age and with far greater disadvantages. All other risks and adventures pale in comparison.

Growing up isn’t just for the kids. It’s for us at the same time. Embrace the jumble. It’s yours whether you planned for it or not!

Yesterday, we were at a pool with some friends, who have two sons.

The parents are both the quiet, studious, orderly type. And the first son has followed in that train - his internal wiring, from birth, was a reflection of the disposition of his parents.

Not, however, his brother! Right from the get-go, this kid had wilder eyes. And as I tossed him around in the pool, it was obvious that his circuits remain wired quite differently from those of his brother. Same parents. Same upbringing. Very different wiring.

I’ve seen this countless times before. You look at the lineup of kids and say, “Yep - clearly all one family.” Then you experience the personalities and you’re left scratching your head. “How did this couple produce that??”

We do have a tremendous responsibility to shape, to mold, to instruct, to guide - but the longer we go on as parents, the more we realize that there is a layer of wiring in each child that cannot fundamentally be reversed. Some kids are astoundingly sociable. Others are quiet and hesitant. Some come into the world shaking their fist at all around them (including you, Mom or Dad!). And some insist, from early on, that they’re going to learn every lesson the hard way.

It’s the easiest thing in the world for a parent to feel guilty about how their kids are turning out. Some negligent folks probably ought to feel MORE guilty than they do! But there is a level of false guilt that can be discarded. When the sperm and egg meet, there is something magical that happens. Unique and unpredictable wiring. We may be dealt a hand that is quite unexpected. Powerboat parents may get canoe daughters, or vice-versa. Everyone ends up happier when we just learn to play with the hand we’re dealt!

This past week, I had the pleasure of having a backyard lunch meetup with some local bloggers, and one of them brought along her daughter (about 8-9 years old). I had met this little lass before, and knew she was smart as a whip, and full of conversation.

Although lots of adult-ish talk was going on around the table, I made some time to interact with this little sweetheart, and what I remember most is her bright and active eyes. Behind which, quite evidently, was a bright and active mind.

She liked to spell. I gave her the word “disintermediation.” She launched into an attempt to spell it and only missed one letter. She then went on to take a shot at the old standby, “antidisestablishementarianism.” And did great with that one, too! She couldn’t wait to trot out “tintinabulation” (look it up), which she had down cold. As Darth Vader would say, “Impressive!”

Which leads me to think about one of the greatest privileges and joys of parenting. Those bright eyes. Those curious minds. What was once just two cells not long ago is now absorbing and processing so much, at lightning speed (except if it’s homework…). Yes, it can be annoying at times - my 8-year old is peppering us with questions constantly when we’re just trying to watch something on the screen. But obsessive chatter aside, what an awesome experience it is to feed, and shape, and interact with a little mind. To look into eyes as they light up with comprehension. To realize that, as your own eyes and mind dim with age, you’re leaving behind another light who may well out-illuminate you.

That’s why we do this gig.

Confession: I’ve never had much use for cheerleaders.

Anything that smacks of efforts to whip up the crowd has always earned an instinctive disdain. Maybe I have emotional issues. Whatever.

Last week, however, I had the privilege of sitting next to a mother who was, in a very genuine sense, a cheerleader for her children. As a Dad, I was fascinated and richly encouraged.

Getting onto the flight to Chicago, I was preceded by a Mom shepherding her two young boys onto the jetway. Turns out she was stuck next to me while her boys were across the aisle (same row). When you’re a parent, you immediately notice well-behaved kids. I noticed.

I also couldn’t help noticing the bright and cheerful disposition of their mother. All thoughts of perusing the reading material I had stashed away for the flight soon disappeared as we were immersed in conversation the entire way to the Windy City.

This radiant and enthusiastic lady was an authentic cheerleader for her kids. Her actions and disposition toward them were like a breath of fresh seaside air. She loved her husband, her boys, and her role as a Mom. When I told her my wife and I had 5 boys, she make a very sincere cheerleader-like gesture and exclaimed, “You rock!!!”

Little did I realize how much I needed that simple cheer!

In the row ahead of us was a mother having a very difficult time controlling her child. The contrast was unmistakable.

I need to be a better cheerleader, a more encouraging coach, a teammate out on the field with my boys.

Dads can learn an awful lot about being better Dads…from Moms. And maybe we all need a little cheering on to rock it better!

Sometimes, as my kids get older, I find myself fast-forwarding to what I hope to tell them later.

When they’re ready. Like, when they cross the threshold and become parents themselves.

This is what came to mind this morning:

When you have your own little ones, your job is…

- to give them legs strong enough for the long haul.

- to make their arms sturdy enough to provide for themselves (and others).

- to nurture their innate abilities in whatever positive direction that leads.

- to mold their minds into the path of knowledge AND wisdom.

- to shape their hearts to be both tender enough to read others’ pain, and stout enough to bear their own.

- to stiffen their spine to stand up for themselves and for others who need them.

- to never give up seeking to model all of the above, no matter how feebly and imperfectly.

That is the exhilaratingly painful privilege - the joyous responsibility - of being a parent. It was my parents’ role, and my role, and now the torch is passed to you.

It’s your true legacy.

One of the viral pieces of news in the past couple of weeks was the tongue-in-cheek site Please Rob Me, underscoring the potential consequences of broadcasting your location (such as, not being at home!) too broadly on social media. You know, inviting bad guys to break in while you’re Four-Squaring at the mall…

Well, right now I’m more concerned about a different kind of digital invasion. Namely, as parents – how do we encourage the responsible use of digital media by our kids while preventing “screen addiction?”

We still have 3 boys at home – 2 teens and an 8-year old. We have TiVo (so glad to no longer be subject to broadcast schedules and commercials!) and Netflix on-demand; a family iMac with all the usual web destinations a click away; a Wii; and each kid has an age-appropriate handheld device.

We’re really not big TV watchers, and my kids aren’t sedentary couch potatoes, but let’s face it – all this stuff can be an endless parade of sight and sound that is an easy default (instead of, say, walking the dog, exercising, reading books – all that boring analog stuff!).

Even Dad has to be reminded at times to put away his iPhone (ahem!).

Now, we don’t want to be rigid and spin out all sorts of rules and timetables and impossible-to-enforce schedules, but at the same time, we need to build SOME fences around this stuff so that it does not overwhelm us entirely. For instance, on the iMac, each child has an account, with a preset time allotment of one hour per day. But that’s just one of the digital conduits!

I’m betting all of you who are parents are struggling with this. How do you handle it (apart from, say, moving to Lancaster County and joining the Amish)? What’s working for your kids/family? Have you figured out strategies to allow healthy use without feeling like you’ve walked onto the set of the Invasion of the Family Snatchers? Please share in the comments!

(Image credit – no, not my kids, but very cute!)

Those three words are still echoing in my mind and heart. They only brushed past my ear for a few milliseconds, but the vibration of them continues, an acoustic double-espresso of emotional energy.

“Love you, Dad!” Tossed over his shoulder as one of my adult sons headed out.

A simple phrase, really. Easy to tune out or even brush off. Until your kids grow up, that is.

Thinking back, the “I love you’s” flow easily when the kids are young. Then they get older, and it’s not so cool to say it. What was once common becomes rare, replaced by the silent hope that it’s still true. The unspoken is now taken for granted.

You get used to near-silence after a while - uncomfortably reconciling yourself to a season of affections assumed, though your ears miss the words even as your eyes interpret the almost imperceptible gestures. You were there, once, some years back - you know how young men keep it in check. Especially when their budding independence comes up against your not-quite-so-confident-anymore leadership.

Then, as they leave the cocoon into the responsibilities and privileges of adulthood, their parents seem to undergo a metamorphosis as well. No longer a mere “bad cop” figurehead at the helm of a prison ship, or some retro dunce from another planet, those parents transform into human beings again.

Mom and Dad again.

And every “Love you, Dad!” rings that much louder. Makes the moment that much brighter. Means more than the young man can possibly know.

Fame, titles, riches - they all have their place. A pretty distant second place, overall. Every “Love you, Dad!” is pure gold.

It was a young man looking clearly into my eyes this morning.

Back from a successful 3 months at boot camp, being forged into a United States Marine. Completing a month off to see family and friends over the holidays. Now having the final Dad-breakfast of this chapter of his young life, before heading out tonight for advanced training and a career going who-knows-where in coming years.

It was a young man across the table. So short a time ago, a little tow-headed boy. Now, a strong-jawed Marine, quite a sight when in his dress blues. We looked into the future together, with both confidence and excitement.

For years, we held him close…with the ultimate parental goal of finally letting go.

And as we had a last talk to cap off this stage of the father-son relationship, it was a young man who was thinking responsibly. Aware of his duties, and of the needs of others. Someone for whom I always felt deep love, but now, another, very profound sense was emerging.

Respect. Mutual respect.

This boy had given us a run for our money. Growing him up was definitely not a trouble-free process. There was heartache and grief. But underneath all the teen folly, a young man was lurking, ready to shed the cocoon and fly.

We’re at the launch pad, and this one is fueled up and ready to go. It’s lift-off time. My heart is oscillating wildly with more emotions than I can even identify. My keyboard, even now, is stained with tears.

Go, David - Go. May God bless you.

Love, Dad