Letter from a father to a son, number three

Son,

Open the window.

Do you see the light dancing on the last leaves of autumn? Do you hear the murmur of a thousand distant cars, threading themselves through a city of steel and concrete? What about the birds in debate, or the sighing of the lilies?

That is the world, my son. It is a world that, while not always welcoming you, needs and deserves you, as you need and deserve it. It is what it is, and also what it will be. Between those two displaced realities exists your potential self. Between what you are, and what you will be, are my hopes and fears, my desperate prayers across darkness.

Many of us have asked you to believe in the good, to embrace it. We have asked you to believe that good things for you are yet possible -- and will always remain possible.

But that is not enough. You know these things. In all your brokenness, you remain intelligent, even wise.

Today I write to tell you that you deserve happiness, you deserve liberty, you deserve a future.

Do you know what we called people who denied those things to those who deserve them (everyone)? History has so many names. Slavers. Tyrants. Despots.

Fathers.

My son, you deserve happiness and joy and confidence and love. I see you, in your pain, and want to tell you that you are unique: you are special.

But most of all, you deserve love just by existing.

It is an axiom of your humanity, and though people have tried to test this, and others have passed judged, I believe you do not forsake that, ever.

Had I the strength to carry you personally, I would. But perhaps that would rob you of the necessary cultivation of that indomitable faith that you will need to pass to others. So I write, my son. I write and pray and would curse and sell my soul, my liberty, my humanity, just to preserve yours. It is the blessing of this world that those are not necessary -- perhaps all I need is to tell you enough times that you will consider believing it, and doing what I can to make sure events confirm possibility into belief.

I'm trying to bias the experiment in your favor. But why not? You deserve it.

Do not be afraid of the word "deserve". It has become a toxic word today -- overused and misunderstood. Though you will not sacrifice your humanity, ever, you do make the road harder when deserving becomes divorced from actions and responsibility. But you know these things; you do not know you are worthy of precious and essential gifts. I will spare the lecture on responsibility until I have the confidence that this more basic lesson sticks.

Please believe. Upon this belief or disbelief rests all future choices.

Love,

Father