Your father traveled across the world this week, while you traveled
across the country with your mother and brother back home to Phoenix. I am
currently in Singapore, a small, prosperous city in Southeast Asia. I would say
it reminds me of a tropical New York City.
Last night I ventured out from the Hilton and had a great dinner at a
Tapas bar owned by a friendly and free pouring Austrian gentlemen. He had
recently acquired some wines from his home country and luckily for me I was
sitting next to some of his good friends and was engaged in about 7 rounds of
tastings. I struck up a conversation with the strangers at the bar, a gentleman
from the UK and his girlfriend who was from Singapore. They invited me to a bar called Harrys- great
live music, a very interesting scene to say the least and some conversation
when you could manage over the volume coming from the speakers.
As I said the scene inside of Harrys was very interesting, many older
white males, and many young Asian women (I was told many were from Indonesia,
Thailand, Malaysia). In a word they were working girls, working what they call
the oldest profession, selling one’s body for sex. Located across the street from the bar was a
shopping mall of sorts. It is called the “four floors of whores” by locals. Of course
my guides told me about it and said I must see it while I was here. I was happy
to have their company as I would not have attempted it on my own.
That night I didn’t think much of the scene around me, I was mostly
focused on having a good time, taking in the spectacle and relaxing after a stressful
week of work. We went to two of the floors, and inside one of the bars,
actually a country bar believe it or not. I never thought I would hear Toby Keith
over the speakers in Singapore, I guess I can’t escape him no matter how far
away I go!
I woke up far too early today and promptly went downstairs to rehydrate
and get some breakfast, came back to the room and started considering the
experience of the night before. In passing it seemed somewhat harmless,
somewhat tempting, forbidden, exciting, all in good fun. However, the more I dwell
on it the more it bothers me. Not only does it bother me that there is a part
of me that was tempted by this, but that prostitution has always and will most
likely always exist. Poor and desperate women doing what they can to survive,
and males of low enough quality to pay/force upon/ or engage in the activity
with them.
I shudder at the mere thought of you being one of those women. However,
you are them. Not that your “profession” is shared with theirs, but that your
spirit, your femininity, your vulnerability and strength. I didn’t look at them
like I look at you; my initial instinct was not to protect them as I would you.
I am sorry to say but I was a spectator, I smiled and moved along as though
they were there for my entertainment. I still disappoint myself more often than
I would like.
As with these women you are vulnerable. One of your key vulnerabilities
is your desire to be loved by a man, and the trust you will place in them. There
is nothing wrong with your desire for love, acceptance, and value from men, it
is God given. The weakness is inverse to the weakness of men. Our weakness (one
among many) lies in the sometimes narrow focus on only physical pleasure, regardless
of cost to those we engage in it with. Women desire this love and acceptance,
and men too often exploit it to fulfill their own desires. We say the right
words, make you feel the way you want to feel, so that you will reciprocate
with the physical affection that we had in mind all along.
As I said, there is nothing wrong in your desire, or that of a man’s. The
difficulty is that the physical affection is exchanged before a true emotional
connection is established, before the man has made any real commitment or bond
of himself to the woman. When that occurs the man walks away physically satisfied,
and the woman is left with a broken heart and feeling of absolute rejection and
worthlessness. It is only when you are in a committed relationship, and so to
say “he put a ring on it” that the exchange should take place. Imagine signing
over the title to your car to someone because they spoke nicely to you, took
you to dinner and promised that eventually they would pay you for it. When they
drive away never to return you are left only with your regrets. In one scenario
it is your wallet that is empty, in the other, your soul.
As I said, women are strong, in
many regards stronger than a man could ever be. The women I saw were not weak,
though some may see them as such. They may take abuse and torment, but they are
strong enough to endure and survive. Many of them have little choice in the
matter, but they are strong enough to endure what I see as unendurable, and most
likely they endure it for the betterment of someone they love. Women may lack
the physical strength of men, but they have strength of character, love,
patience, fortitude, wisdom, and faith. It is by the weakness of men that women
are often made stronger, it is by our failures to live up to our charge that
women often suffer.
You are mine as much as I am
yours. That means to the peril of my life, liberty and prosperity I will sacrifice
for the betterment of your life. My bond and commitment to my family is unique
in depth and significance, but as a man I am called to live my life to the
betterment of all around me. To protect the innocent, provide for the poor, and
show love to my neighbors as Christ did. If all men adhered to this calling
those women would not be on those street corners, and a great many other evils
would not exist. But we are fallen, I struggle, men struggle, no matter our
title or place in this world we fall short of our God given calling.
I would have you know what a man
is, so that you give your heart to one that is worthy of that gift. Trouble is
that I will be your measure of what a man is, and I still feel that there is
much improvement to be made. I do not want you to endure what your mother did
while I was learning what it meant to be a husband. Some pain in life is good,
it is a cruel but effective teacher, but that does not mean I want to think
about you enduring pain.
You are three years old, each
week you say at least 10 new things that make me smile. Last week while we were
on a “magical adventure” to pick dandelions you were holding them in your hand,
running around yelling “do your job wind!”. You were wearing a green dress and
cowboy boots in a large grass field and I hope I never forget how beautiful you
looked. Even at three you make me proud every day, you are sweet, kind to
others, so very smart, and you love and trust me completely. I will endeavor to
see all women in the same light I see you and your mother, and to value them as
such. I will continue to strive to be a man worthy of your mother’s love, so
that when your heart is ready, you will know how to see past the disingenuous boys
of this world and recognize the man who will dedicate the rest of his life to
protecting, caring for, and enriching yours.
I can’t wait to get home and see
you- I have two more countries and 12 more days.
