Soft words carry unexpected power. John wrote this lullaby for his son Julian, then gave it to Ringo to sing on the White Album. It closes one of rock's most iconic double albums with unexpected sweetness. John was sometimes embarrassed by his own tenderness, hiding it behind irony or passing songs to others. There is a lost version with John singing it that is said to have been beautiful.
Letting someone else deliver this tender message felt safer to John. He'd spent years building a tough exterior, the clever wit, the rebel image, the hard edge. Writing a simple, tender lullaby for his son exposed a vulnerability he found uncomfortable.
Every parent knows the fierce love that surfaces at bedtime. Watching your child sleep unleashes feelings that can overwhelm even the toughest exterior. John captured that moment perfectly in this song, the desire to protect, to comfort, to promise that everything will be alright. The love in this simple good night blessing is unmistakable, calling to mind "Beautiful Boy", the solo song John wrote for his other son Sean years later.
Expressing tenderness requires more bravery than hardness. Our culture rewards toughness and mocks sentiment. But John's lullaby reminds us that the courage to be soft, especially for those who live behind a facade of toughness, might be the truest strength.
Protecting yourself by hiding love costs both you and those you love. When you finally allow tenderness to show, you give others permission to do the same. John's discomfort with his own sweetness meant Julian might not have fully received the depth of his father's love. That's a tragedy repeated in countless families where love exists but goes unexpressed.
Today, I will express tenderness to someone I love, even if it feels uncomfortable or vulnerable.
What tender feeling have you been hiding behind toughness? Who needs to experience your softness, not just your strength?
