Today marks the first day that I’ll begin doing these journal entries. Why am I doing this?
You’re only three years old right now, my beloved son. But one day, you will be much older, and things will be different. My love for you will continue to expand, but our relationship will evolve and adapt over time with the changing seasons.
Right now, our relationship has a lot of precious physical elements. At three years old, you are very receptive to my hugs and kisses. You openly accept them and oftentimes invite them. I love squeezing your soft face with my two hands and kissing your cheeks.
You are precious to me, my beloved son, and always will be.
And so I wanted to journal the journey. The journey of watching you grow, learn, and mature. I wanted to journal my thoughts, feelings, and wisdom that I wish to impart to you so that one day when you are a young man, you can look back on these words and know that despite how hard I may have been on you, it was from a place of relentless love.
I’m currently sitting at the dining room table at your grandmother’s house. You are outside playing with her while your mother and I are inside the house. Your mother is sitting on the couch in front of me—her belly is plump, as your little brother Adin Joseph is just a few weeks out from being born.
Things are great right now. The Lord continues to bless our family. His grace and favor are evident in our family’s life. It’s thick like fresh honey and visible to all who see it from the outside.
Last year I made over $600,000 in income from my YouTube business. And this year, I am projecting to make significantly more.
We are about two weeks out from closing on our beautiful new home on Cramerton Court. You will create a lot of beautiful and nostalgic memories there. We all will.
One thing I’ve been thinking about a lot recently and praying to the Lord about is raising you and your brother Adin to be strong, ambitious, determined young men.
There’s a saying that goes,
“Hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times.”
G. Michael Hopf
I had extraordinarily hard times as a child growing up in Detroit, Michigan. And my childhood experiences forced me to become a strong man. That, in turn, became the catalyst for me to create good times for your mom, you, and, eventually, your brother Adin.
And so now here I am, face-to-face with the latter half of that quote, “…good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times.”
I will not let you become a weak man. Don’t get me wrong; you will have an amazing life. And you’ll have things and experience things that I never got to as a child.
But it would be my greatest failure in life to fail you. To make a weak man out of you. Especially after God has blessed me with such a gift in Elisha James Mayo.
You are so strong already, even at three. You have the head of a bull. The strength of a lion. The will of an ox. You know, as a matter of fact, what you want and don’t want. You are passionate, kind, and always wanting to help.
All of these are the traits of a leader. And a leader, you are.
Balancing discipline
I spoke with your mother today about the balance of disciplining you. How much is too much, and what’s not enough? I trust the Lord will give me guidance and already has.
Discipline is crucial. At the same time, too much discipline can crush your spirit and take away what I believe makes you such a mighty warrior—tenacity, persistence, and determination.
For example, we were at Lowe’s today picking out a fern for your grandmother on Mother’s Day. While there, you asked if you could pick out a car. Picking out cars at Lowe’s has become somewhat of a common tradition.
Anyways, while there, we first went to the garden section to pick out the fern. We then proceeded to the tower of diecast cars that stood near the checkout line.
You browsed the tower of cars, eyes agazed at all the bright wheely options.
After about five minutes, I instructed you that it was time to choose one car so that we could purchase it, and the fern, and leave.
Immediately, you screamed out in a micro-tantrum—NOOO!
Both your mother and I were taken aback, but not completely surprised, as this has been your response to simple requests for a few months now.
I kneel down to your level, slightly frustrated I say to you, “Elisha, listen to me, son. You cannot scream out like that, especially when you or your mom are asking you to do something. That is not okay, do you understand me?”
Your sweet eyes begin to swell up in tears. I reassure you that I am not mad at you, and that you can continue looking at cars for one more minute but that we have to go soon.
So we wait another two minutes to let you continue browsing, indecisive about which car you want to take home with you.
Again, I say, “Elisha, it’s time to pick out a car baby boy, so that we can go to grandma’s house. Are you ready to pay for this?”
This time, you were indeed ready to pay for the car and the fern and leave.
On our way out, you asked if we could stop and look at the driving lawnmowers sitting outside the front of the store.
“Of course you can buddy”, I said.
You hopped on a couple, played for about a minute, then seemed bored of the lawnmowers.
I noticed this and took it as an opportunity to ask if you were ready to leave so that we could go to grandma’s house.
NOOO! I don’t want to!
This time, feeling more frustrated, I grab your arm and pull you close to me, and with a much more stern tone say, “Listen to me, boy. You cannot do that. You cannot scream out at your mom and I like that. Do you understand me, boy? Let’s go to the car, now!” With my hand wrapped around your small wrists, I quickly pace to our Kia Telluride, open the door, and sternly tell you to get into the car.
You quickly hop into the car, faster than I’d ever seen you get in a car. Your mother fastened you into your seat. I turned around from the driver’s seat to look back at you, to again reassert why I was angry at you at that moment.
No more than three minutes later while driving on the road, and big red firetruck pulled up in the lane next to us. I turned around and looked at your still frowning face and say, “Elisha, look at the fire truck baby boy, right there”.
Your face quickly converts to a smile, and all is well again.
Discipline is crucial. Without it, you will spoil, you will rot. Without discipline, you will never know the difference between right and wrong. Good and bad. Righteous and unrighteous.
I thank God that he has given me the wisdom to know how and when to challenge you. The Lord has blessed us with a gift in you, Elisha. A boy that is so strong-willed, so determined, so full of fire and drive, that sometimes I fear I could misguide you and destroy all that life inside of you.
But again, I revert back to my faith in the Lord. How he has granted me that which I have prayed for—the grace and wisdom to be a father. And a father I am.
And as a father, it is my core duty to mold and define your identity. And that starts now when you are still a toddler—learning the difference between hot and cold.
With all that I have already accomplished in life by the grace of God, even at the young age of 30, it is my life’s biggest mission to raise champions. And a champion you are Elisha. A champion you are, my beloved son.