The Crown Jewels of Manhood

Madness, Manhood, and the Crown We Carry — Inspired By My Brother from Another Mother, Paul Loma

We must carry a crown—our mothers issue it to us at birth. The crowning is literal. What it becomes… is up to us.

For a long time I walked around mad at the world. I was confused about this life— a life I was living without a father or even a decent role model to follow. No template, no list of rules, just gut and instinct. I felt the immense pressure of trying to do a good job for my children, while carrying the crippling weight of not having a guide to show me what I was supposed to do. And on top of that, I had already sabotaged myself by having a child at 16. I wasn’t an adult yet myself, but in my mind, that proves my point. I was too misguided to even know I had no business having children when I barely understood how to wipe my own ass.

I no longer feel that weight. I don’t know if it was me, God or The Universe, but every step of the way, I was able to learn. Every mistake was turned into a lesson that resulted in incremental growth. Initially, raising a child felt impossible because every step was a step toward the unknown. I was walking deeper into the cave of fatherhood without a torch and kept stumbling in the dark— a lot of those lessons still hurt. I also no longer live in regret, but the mistakes I made as a father are the only area of my life that I’d go back in time and change if God would let me. Regardless of mistakes, regret, guilt, or shame, I was able to move forward and learn from all those errors. Today I see fatherhood for what it really is, a blessing, a jewel in my crown. Maybe God didn’t give me the father I wanted in my life, but what he did gift me was the ability to learn, perspective, and the skill to package those lessons. Maybe he gave me those talents so that I could try to give those lessons to you. Here’s what I’ve gained from that perspective. We wear manhood as a crown of jewels and it's up to each man to create value in his own crown.

The first jewel in the crown we must earn is the jewel of character: why? Character is the foundational stone in the crown. It sets the stage for everything else. The foundation of our character must be built on stability, quality traits, values, and virtue—and it must be constructed with integrity that can withstand close scrutiny. Our character requires attention and development. The facets of our character reflect our values, beliefs, skills, virtues, traits, work ethic, and our will.

What is your character? Does it reflect what you want your sons and daughters to inherit? Have you adopted a dark character? Is your character that of a leader, a follower? Is your character so highly developed that you can’t help but lead others to greatness? Or is it so flawed that you lead people to despair or even death?

Even in the most challenging lives, we still get to choose the destination of our character. Will it add value to your crown? The kind of value that earns a woman’s trust—enough to let you lead?

One of the other jewels in our crown may be marriage. Such a commitment sets the tone for a long and enduring relationship. Today, fewer people are getting married, but that doesn’t mean it lacks value. In fact, it may still be one of the best ways to raise children. You don’t need marriage to start a family—but the traditional bond between mother, father, and child still seems to offer a structure that echoes something deep and ancient in the human design. It should go without saying that there are single men and women, divorcees, and unmarried couples who raise great children. But in my experience, growing up without a father was detrimental to my growth—as a grown man, I still feel that wound.

Another jewel in the crown of manhood is fatherhood. This statement does not diminish men without children, but for those of us gifted the privilege of being a father, fatherhood is an invaluable gift if we choose to see it that way. I do recall the looks on my children’s faces after great accomplishments. Even the small victories in their lives were valuable to them—and being there to help them celebrate was an investment in their spirit. Those experiences were invaluable to all of us. Love lives in those moments.

I can’t tell you how much I value the jewel of fatherhood. Being someone’s dad is probably the most valuable asset in my financial portfolio; it’s an investment in soul that never stops gaining interest. The reward is a type of joy a man can only experience. I don’t know if there are words to describe the dividends I receive from being their dad.

There are many other jewels that add value to the crown of manhood even if adding more gems increases the weight of responsibility. The jewel of the builder is cherished. That jewel represents the guy with the job who brings home the money, who builds the house that becomes a home.

The jewel of the creator is one of the crown’s centerpieces. It helps us show our children how to solve problems. It helps us show our children how to become the lawyer if their genetics prevent them from becoming the athlete.

The stone of the creator allows us to show them that their destiny is not tied to ANYTHING, except the limits of their imagination. It helps our kids recognize the talents that will help them succeed and understand how to work around the inequalities of life. It helps us explain to our children that life isn’t fair, while also finding creative ways to overcome life’s many shortcomings.

And finally, the jewel of leadership. With the experience of marriage, fatherhood, as the builder, and the creator, the last foundational jewel to set in the crown is that of leadership. We don’t stop at ourselves, our spouses, or our children. We owe it to the village to offer our services if God provides us in excess. Of course, we must focus on our homes, but once the work is done there, the trait of charity gives us the polish that makes the crown shine. Our struggles create strength and that strength gives us the character to shape and mold this crown with precision.

It may not be the perfect perspective for you, but this concept—the idea that we must work to become competent enough to earn and shape our crown jewels—has served me well. It has helped me create something of value, something enduring, and something that can become an object of legacy.

My children can say that I was a good man to their mother. That I was an imperfect, but present and always-improving father. That I may not have built them a house—but I always gave them a home.

They can say that I not only gave them what they needed, but that I tried to do more—and lead others with all of the tools—really, the gifts—that God gave me.

My crown has many more stones than just the ones I’ve outlined. The stones of struggle and success help me brighten it into a mirror of reflection—so I can see myself, and keep working on my imperfections.

If I do it right, when I die—and I will die—I will leave them an object not solely of monetary value, but a crown littered with curious gems they can talk about. Gems they can discuss—real bling.

They can look at the crown their dad built and, hopefully, view it with spectacle and wonder—and force themselves to ask the question:

How?

How did he do it?

And how do I earn these gems of character for myself?

Happy Father’s Day.