On Parenting, Stories, and My Dad

Occasionally I get to have an actual good conversation with my oldest teenager. Most of the time he just wants to talk about video games and Marvel movies, but every once and a while he opens up, and we actually have a good talk. Last night we had a good discussion.

My Dad would have turned 72 today. He is, and will forever be, my hero. Two dates from his life will be imprinted on me forever, December 10th (today) his birthday, and February 6th, 2003 when he passed away 5 days after he collapsed at home and just a week and a half removed from heart surgery.

I mention that because Conor and I’s conversation came out of his frustration about putting pressure on himself to have a story. Context doesn’t matter so much here, but he was telling me how feels like he just doesn’t have a story yet and feels terrible about it. And he’s right, not about feeling bad, but about not having a story yet. His story is just beginning. He’s not lost very many loved ones, he’s not had to face a lot of adversity, and from a faith perspective, he’s not really made his faith his own yet. He’s just now starting to even think about wrestling with things like that, but most days, like most almost 17-year-old boys, he’s thinking about his girlfriend and video games. And while one might say that’s bad, as someone with a story, I don’t see it that way at all.

Life is coming for him. It’s creeping over the hill. What’s the rush? I would not trade my story and mistakes anything in the world because they make me who I am, but I also would not run a full sprint back into them either. Or desire to experience the pain of it over and over. So, in that conversation I could have helped him figure out his story, but for what? The pain is coming. The fact he doesn’t know he has one yet reflects the fact Melissa, and I have worked hard to give our kids the best lives possible. He should get to be a kid. So, I’m in no hurry to push him into it. He doesn’t need a story yet. One day he will, and he will have one, and it will include things from this part of his life that he doesn’t realize is a story yet. But until then? I’m ok with him figuring out who he is in the first place. Life is coming for him. And my job is not to stop it, but to prepare him for it and be there for him when it does.

The hardest part of raising kids is letting them fail but letting them fail in a way that prepares them for what is heading their way. I think the tendency of parents nowadays is they try so hard to keep their kids from feeling any sort of pain or discomfort that when they do get older, and life does what life does, they can’t cope. My Dad let me fail. He didn’t keep me free from consequences mind you, but he allowed me to fail. I didn’t have the best grades, I didn’t make the best decisions, I wasn’t always truthful, and yet he (along with my Mom who begrudgingly went along with him) let me do those things, get those grades, tell that tale, and when it fell apart, there were consequences. He didn’t spare me from the consequences, some of which came from them and some of which came from school or work or the loss of friendships. And you know what? It hurt. And I learned from it. Sometimes I had to make the same mistake several times to get it, but I eventually got it. Too many parents don’t let their kids fail, and that does them a great disservice because life is coming and some seasons are great and some seasons are terrible.

Life is coming for my sons. Life came for me. I had lost relatives growing up, but you never expect to lose a parent when you’re in your 20’s and their first Grandson is not even a year old. I never expected to have what I thought was the last job I would ever have outsourced in 2004. I never expected to be back in school in my late 20’s and then to  leave another job I thought was the last job I would ever have in my early 30’s to go into ministry full time. I never thought I would see not one, but two delivery rooms as quiet as a tomb when my wife, who is the very picture of strength and resiliency, would deliver seemingly healthy boys that never had a chance. I never thought a few years ago I would be the only Pastor in a church and forced to push down all my feelings about that and just trudge forward for the good of the family that makes up our church. All the while, my family was still reeling from losing two babies. Nobody knew really, but I was battling depression and anger and grief. Those were some dark, difficult times. Because life came for me like it does everyone.  I was as ready as someone could be, because my parents let me fail.  And those times, while at times were awful, helped make me who I am.

Life is coming for my two teenagers of whom I am profoundly proud. One day they will realize it, and I’m not going to try and stop it, but you better believe I’ll be there to put my arm around them for as long as God allows me to be here. And I’ll do my best to prepare them for it. But for now, I’m following the example my Dad and Mom set for me. One day my boys will have a story filled with joy and pain and mistakes and triumphs. But for now? I’m just going to let them talk about the new Smash Brothers game, and girls, and the new Avengers trailer. And I’m perfectly fine with that.

Oh, and Happy Birthday Dad. Thanks for everything.