Lone Wolf

Feared by Weak Men.

Hated by Small Men.

Respected by Real Men.

Last summer, when I was working as a groom at a show, I walked a horse up to an old farrier. Handing him the twisted shoe that the mare had thrown, I stood by and watched him straighten it out and nail it back on. As he worked, he asked a few questions. First about the horse, and then about me, how long I’d been working the shows, etc. He had a short way of talking, with long pauses, weighing his words.

After another minute of silence, he asked me if I’d ever considered being a farrier. Explaining himself, he stopped to look me in the eyes, and said, “You look lost.”

Laughing, I replied, “Thanks.”

But he was right. I didn’t really fit in and I knew it. Noticing, he took the time to care, to comment, to listen. He offered his story briefly, including how he got his start, and where his career had taken him.

When I showed him some pictures of wildlife art that I’ve created over the years, he said “Well, I’d do that, then. But still, if you’re that artistic, I bet you’d make a great farrier. It’s all angles and such, anyway.”

His two cents were priceless to me. He gave respect, advice, and encouragement to go after whatever it was that I wanted. All that in just a few short words. He offered advice, the best he had to offer without knowing much about me.

“Now, you’ve got to love what you do, not do what you love, understand? If you can love working hard, it’ll take good care of you.”

That stretch of about ten minutes was the closest experience I’ve had to having an intentional father. I was validated, initiated by a complete stranger, invested in more than any other time in my life. Fathered by a grumpy old cowboy who owed me nothing, but recognized something in me and looked closer.

Since then, I’ve made some adjustments and really enjoy work these days. I don’t want to be a farrier, and the art is mainly a hobby, but I really needed that nudge to change. God used a stranger. Anyone can give advice. But what made this valuable was the old man’s authenticity and compassion. He had a gut instinct and enough guts to act on it.

A little of my story…

My father checked out a long time ago. His father was a complete dud. My mother’s father didn’t think I should have been born. The effort that any of them ever put towards me was all centered around themselves, to make them look or feel good. When I went to church, the older men had no room for a real man, seeking only to be the strongest man in their circle. I’ve been seen as a threat by almost all of the men I’ve been around, being put down or put to work.

Work is what I was good for, I did it well. That was my role.

But this is not a new story. So many men are fatherless.

Hatred. Everywhere I go, in the eyes of so many men, I see hate. I’ve chosen well, and it shows. I’ve showed up, sacrificed, and I’ve worked hard on my health. I’ve never messed around or partied. I’ve chosen family first. Every time. I’ve done the hard things. I am everything these men should have been, and they hate me for it.

I’ve heard it said that it’s not hard to be seen as a good man, because the contrast these days makes you look good. Most men are duds. By choice. Dumb choices. Cause and effect.

I’ve shown up for the younger guys I know, been the best example I’ve known how to be. I just wonder about you older men, those of you that had fathers or mentors or even made it all on your own… where are you guys? You’re more qualified to lead than I am, but you’re not showing up. Are you just lining your nests for retirement, hiding out on your hunting property? Are you golfing, or spending all your time on your boat? Why are you all about yourself?

Geez. Go out with your boots on or you’re already dead.

So tired. Tired of being the strongest man in my life, tired of being the one man I know that is in the fight for character, for control of his body and mind. Tired of dealing with men that I will never be anything like, men that use and leave women, men that take all they can get, men that disrespect their children and stuff their stomachs, weak men.

Damn your religion. Damn your gluttony. Damn your intellectual, self-righteous, bible-reading shows of holiness. Damn your god. The God I know and follow is not the one you’ve created.

I’m a Lone Wolf. Not because I can’t run with others, but because no one else is in the fight with me. God is Wild, he is Dangerous, he is Kind, he is my real Father. I run with the instincts he put in me, the Truth that is deep in my gut.

So I am rebelling. Against religion, against weakness, and against all the knock-offs. Against your intellectual rants and against your pride. I will call you out, and I won’t let you keep hurting the innocent. Right is right. Wrong is wrong.

“Let the world feel the weight of who you are and let them deal with it.” - John Eldredge

That’s my favorite quote… because I’m not good at doing that. So, here’s a sneak peek into my mind. I am Elliott. I love God, I hate evil, and I am intense. Frickin’ deal with it.

To the weak men: Time’s running out.

To the small men: Get a life. Lose the God-damn judgment. Not all young men are like you. Don’t assume we share the messed-up intentions and self-centered motives you’ve had. Your hatred will go nowhere; it will just die with you.

To the real men: We need you. Gosh darn it, where the hell are the grandpas?

Make a little room in your life. Take a little time, make it about someone other than yourself. Help the next guy in line here. Iron sharpens iron. Father someone, grandfather someone, invest in someone. Be intentional.

I know it can be done. Show up, qualified or not.

Look for a lone wolf.

And let God make an impact through you.