Working on my latest story brought back all these memories from when I was a kid and got me thinking. What does it means to be a man? the following is my attempt to answer that question.

A man does not turn his back on his friends or break his word. He finishes what he starts. A man does not run when things get difficult. He stands and faces what lies in his path, steadfast in the knowledge that no matter what, he gave it his all. He does not let pride stop him from asking for help when he needs it. He sees a problem and fixes it. He knows when to lead and when to follow. He knows respect must be earned before it can be given. He admits when he is wrong and does not gloat when he is right. He humbles himself before his god, country and family and defends them until his last breath. He analyzes his weaknesses, improving them where he can, and accepts where he cannot. A man knows that true strength isn’t measured by muscles, but comes from within. He knows when to be strict and when to be lenient. He does not confess with his mouth, what his heart knows to be untrue. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness. For he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. But most importantly a man speaks up when the situation calls for it and remains silent when it does not.