Recently, I’ve found myself revisiting the music of the late 1990s and early 2000s. This era, for me and many others, marks a nostalgic point where musical tastes solidified as we transitioned from youth into adulthood. Among the bands I’ve rediscovered is Creed, and their powerful ballad, “Arms Wide Open,” has resonated with me in a profound way.
This song, penned by Scott Stapp, Creed’s frontman, captures the overwhelming emotions and dreams that accompany the discovery of impending fatherhood. Interestingly, “Arms Wide Open” was climbing the charts when I myself learned I was going to be a father. Hearing the lyrics again after so many years—twenty-three years and eight children to be exact—unleashed a torrent of memories and reflections on my journey through parenthood.
When you step into parenthood, it’s often with a heart full of idealism. Whether you were blessed with wonderful parents, as I was, or yearned for a better upbringing, there’s a universal desire to excel as a parent. You aspire to give your children more, to see them surpass your own achievements, and to shower them with every opportunity.
Creed’s “Arms Wide Open” perfectly encapsulates this initial idealism. The chorus boldly declares, “I’ll show you love, I’ll show you everything.”
And the bridge poignantly wishes: “If I had just one wish, only one demand, I hope he’s not like me; I hope he understands that he can take this life and hold it by the hand; And he can greet the world with arms wide open.”
Back then, singing along to these lyrics, I envisioned them as the guiding principles of my fatherhood.
However, as life unfolds, the realities of parenthood can be strikingly different from those idealistic dreams. Dostoyevsky, in The Brothers Karamazov, eloquently captures this sentiment (though I must confess, I’ve only encountered the quote, not the full novel): “Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.”
Before becoming a parent, witnessing a parent lose their temper with a child in public would evoke judgment. I’d think, “What a terrible parent!” Now, observing similar scenes in stores or elsewhere, my reaction is one of empathy, “I’ve been there.” In retrospect, I realize I was a far superior father in my pre-parenting imagination.
Revisiting “Arms Wide Open” after all this time, I was confronted with my paternal shortcomings. There have been countless instances where I haven’t shown my children the love I intended, or fully provided them with all that life has to offer. A sense of regret surfaced, a feeling of not quite measuring up to the lofty ideals set forth in that song.
This introspection deepened when my eldest son, Max, shared a YouTube video about “father wounds.” The video quoted John Eldredge, highlighting the common experience of sons carrying wounds, often inflicted by their fathers. Familiar with Eldredge’s work, the concept resonated, and I knew I had inevitably caused my children pain.
I promised Max I would watch the video, and we later discussed it. He brought up a specific incident from his childhood, a “father wound” I had inflicted. When he was around three or four, he playfully used a hose to extinguish the fire on the grill I was using to cook dinner. My reaction was far from amused; I punished him by confining him indoors for the evening.
It was undoubtedly an overreaction. Looking back, I deeply regret my response. Max has recounted this event before, and while I’d previously sensed lingering pain, this time felt different. He even chuckled about it, a sign of healing.
Adding another layer to this reflection, my daughter Elsa recently approached me and said, “You know what I like about you? You don’t wait for life to come to you. You go do things.” Perhaps, despite my perceived failures, I have shown my children more than I initially believed.
I am learning that fatherhood is an ongoing journey, not a destination reached at a certain age. While there are aspects of my parenting I wish I could redo, opportunities to guide and influence my children persist, even as they grow older. I can still teach them to greet the world with arms wide open.
If you are a parent or caregiver, it’s never too late for you either. None of us will parent perfectly, but our imperfections shouldn’t paralyze us. We can all continue to strive to do our best in the present.
Rooting for you,
Tom
