The More We Protect, The Less We Prepare

I have to admit I’m not in my happiest of places these days—I’m in my “writing mode.” Or, as my literature teacher wife would call it, “The Winter of Our Discontent.” See, I’ve recently begun writing my next book, tentatively titled “Launching Hope.” It’s an effort to help parents lead their adolescents into productive adulthood, and if this book creation experience is anything like the two previous, then my family can expect several months of moodiness, challenging fits of emotional reactivity, and alternating bouts of exhilarated hope and desperate doubts about the future. Kinda like adolescence itself. (Without the acne, I hope).

Photo by tfg photography

One of the themes of the book is (or, will be, I should say) about how much of the angst of adolescence, for both teens and their parents, stems from a shared misunderstanding of the whole phase itself. And of each other. What far too many families are experiencing is a dreaded tug-of-war, with kids struggling to be older too soon, and parents wanting kids to be younger for too long. What ends up happening is the worst of all ironies: young adults ill-equipped to move on, and parents wondering if they will ever move out.

I have had the pleasure of working with teenagers and their parents, in various capacities, for about 20 years. And during those years as a marriage and family therapist, high school teacher, youth minister, and speaker, I have seen countless examples of parents who, thankfully, did things differently. These different folks did not see their kids as just kids. They saw their offspring as apprenticing adults, designed to grow up and go out, and therefore, these parents believed it was their job as parents to train these kids to do just that.

The starkest example of this visionary parenting I ever encountered occurred years before I ever became a therapist. It did not involve a family I knew or had the pleasure to watch develop over the years. But I now believe it has had more influence on shaping my own thoughts about parenting, particularly leading teenagers into adulthood, than any other personal, professional, or educational experience.

That fateful day was some 16 years ago, and it occurred during my brief stint as a youth minister working with teens in a church in California. I was leading a caravan of parents and teenagers back up “the 5” from Los Angeles to the Bay Area. My wife Jenny was in the car with me, along with our then one-year-old daughter, Hannah. We had all just spent a couple of long days at Disneyland, and we were all exhaustedly heading home. About midway through the drive, it became clear that we weren’t the only ones exhausted that day.

While cruising at 70mph, I noticed an SUV, a few cars in front of us, starting to drift left towards the center rail. This drift must have awakened, or at least startled, the driver into action, because suddenly the SUV swerved hard to the right. It was an obvious overcorrection, for the vehicle zoomed across the freeway, lost complete control, and started flipping violently onto the side of the road. This instantly created a huge cloud of dust, but through it all I could see debris flying everywhere out of the vehicle. I could also see all the cars around us coming to a tire-shrieking stop. This was a serious accident, and we all needed to help.

Mine was the second car on the scene. I urged Jenny to stay in the car with Hannah. I rushed over there, anticipating God knows what. A few of our teens and parents came out from the cars behind me. It was one of those movie scenes where all these people are running to assist, until they actually get close to the action. Then everyone involuntarily slows down as they view the horror.

One woman had been thrown from the vehicle, her body convulsing on the ground. It seemed obvious she was dying. There were conscious cries for help coming from inside the Jeep, along with a screaming baby. Various automobile fluids were spreading out in every direction, and, I hate to say it, some bodily fluids as well. The smells were just as active, and disorienting. Everything I sensed was slowing my progression toward the scene, despite my desires to help. This was the case with all the other well-meaning witnesses, as well.

Except for three.

I mentioned mine was the second car on the scene. Ahead of me was a station wagon that pulled off ahead of the crash. Flying out of that car was a man and his two teenaged sons. Unlike the rest of us, there was no slow down in their approach. Not even from the two boys, whom I later found out were 16 and 13. No, what I noticed was that these three actually seemed to be speeding up as they discerned the severity of the accident.

And I noticed something else: the father had a large emergency kit in his hand, and all three were in the process of putting on white latex gloves. Apparently this man was a professional EMT, one who just happened to be at the right place at the right time. This became obvious as we all eventually reached the carnage.

In a remarkable display of leadership, this father was quickly taking charge of everyone’s desires to help. He gave each of us some basic instructions:

You, sir, go check on the woman on the ground. Don’t move her at all, just touch her neck with your two fingers, and yell out to me if she’s breathing. You, there, tell me if you see any active gasoline leaks coming from the underside of the vehicle. You (he was now looking at me), come with us.

“Us” meant the dad and his boys, and we all headed to the inside of the crashed SUV. Or, I should say, the three of them led me there. This is because what the dad and his boys began to demonstrate was a remarkable teamwork, which created such a compelling competence that I actually felt somewhat comfortable with the invitation.

Inside the SUV were three people: the driver, knocked unconscious; a large woman in the backseat, screaming in pain; and, most distressingly, a baby in a car seat, screaming even louder. I was, of course, struck dumbfounded by the scene. But I was not allowed to stay there in shock. See, as the dad checked on the baby, he started communicating to his sons in very calm, very clear professional terms:

Okay, Steven (the 13-year-old), place your two fingers on the driver’s carotidartery.  Check to make sure her trachea is not resting directly on the steering wheel. Okay, Michael (the 16-year-old), you and the man next to you (me) need to see if you can supinate that woman’s foot, so her leg can release from underneath the seat. Be careful, she’s got a compound fracture of her right femur.

Then, after responding with a clear “yes, sir,” Michael began to lead me the same way as his father:

Sir, could you move to her anterior side and hold her hand while I turn her foot? Be careful of her leg, sir, she’s in a lot of pain. Okay, that’s good. Don’t worry about her screaming, sir; it means she’s not going into shock.

On it went. Needless to say, I was out of my element. But thanks to a sixteen-year-old’s calm (and calming) instruction, we were actually able to help pry the woman from the seat, and eventually the car. She was in bad shape, but okay. And thanks to the dad’s leadership (and a fantastic car seat!), the baby was removed unharmed; just some glass in her hair. The driver was eventually revived as well.

As the ambulance arrived, and the teams of emergency professionals relieved us of our duties, I actually felt genuinely helpful. I could almost understand the appeal of being a first responder.

But I was not the story. This father and his two sons were the story. Here was a man who, most likely, spent the better part of his days dealing with the very worst life has to offer. Accidents, violence, blood, death. As a therapist, I’ve worked with a number of first responders, and the things they wish they could un-see far outnumber what any human should. But this was a dad who did not want to shield his boys from all this horror; he actually wanted to strategically expose them to it. This father did not want to protect his children from the real world all its potential ugliness; he actually wanted to prepare them for it.

And prepared these two boys were. Michael and Steven were in no way shocked by this scene in the California desert, they were compelled by it. These teenagers were in no way unprepared to handle this crisis of life; they were actually leading other adults through it. Lives were saved because of it.

Lives were changed as well. Mine, in particular. No, I didn’t go home and write some manifesto on the virtues of preparing our teens for life (that’s what I’m trying to do here, some 16 years later). But I have to say that walking and working through such an ordeal, and witnessing such a profound model of parental leadership, has undoubtedly affected the way I try to lead my kids into adulthood, and teach others to do the same.

So, what is that “way” of parenting? I’ll let you know as I continue writing…

A Stone-Age Way of Life

I am a cartoon guy. Always have been. Always will be. I guess it is the fantasy and escapism that sort of draws me in.

As a child two of my favorite cartoons were The Flintstones and The Jetsons. I assume you are aware of these two shows. If you are, you know that they are based upon two families that live in different eras—one in the stone ages (Flintstones) and the other some time in the future (Jetsons). The futuristic Jetsons was the one, however that made me hope, dream and imagine—imagine what the future would be like in the far away 2000s.

The future always seemed so bright. According to The Jetsons, we were going to have flying cars and homes in the sky. We had a lot to look forward to. Gadgets and gizmos that were going to make life easier, all brought to life by the time we reached the year 2000.

We are in year 13 of the 2000s and many of those anticipated widgets are widely available for public consumption. We can engage in a video chat session with people next door or in another country. We carry around tiny computers called smartphones and have larger versions of those do-hickeys called tablets. As comedian Louis C.K. says, “Everything is amazing!” Most of the these inventions have something in common. They are designed either to connect us or give us more time so that we can connect with those we love.

Think about it though. Do you feel more connected today with your friends or family than you did, say 20 years ago? I know I don’t. I have fewer personal conversations with people even though all of this great technology is at my fingertips. I am less connected. We are less connected.

From a familial perspective that is concerning. I want to be around my wife and kids (most of the time). I want to be woven into the fabric of their lives, but many times I actually find myself buried into one of my “futuristic” devices. You know, the ones that are supposed to connect us.

A guy named Hal Runkel, author of ScreamFree Marriage, says, “We all crave connection.” We desire it in our marriages, with our kids, in our extended family and in our communities. Nothing gives us fulfillment like a connective relationship with someone else.

In my heart, I desire a return to a simpler time. A time when I didn’t choose to allow a tiny, little device to morph into a huge barrier between me and my loved ones. If I were going to be a cartoon character, I’d rather be Fred Flintstone than George Jetson any day. Think about it, Fred spent time with his wife, kid and friends. He had a social life. He belonged to Royal Order of Water-buffalos, for goodness sake! He might have been mad all of the time, but dog-gone it, at least he was around Wilma, Pebbles, Barney and Dino!

George Jetson, on the other hand, was always either at work, on his way to work or coming home from work. What kind of life is that? Sure he had lots of cool stuff, but it looks like he paid for it. Makes me wonder how daughter Judy and his boy Elroy turned out. Not to mention Jane, his wife.

Some of us have a lot in common with ol’ George.

We secretly wish, however, that we could go back to a simpler time when personal connection was part of our family’s DNA.

You know what though...I think we can have the best of both worlds. I believe we can enjoy what the “future” has given us while holding on to the connection that we really crave.

Here are three ways we can do so:

1. Be Present

When your spouse and kids are around, make it your aim and goal to simply be present. It is not enough to be in the room with them. Become involved with them. Talk, laugh and listen. You will always have “something else” to do. Press pause and enjoy those you love most.

2. Be Intentional

I don’t know if anyone has ever been successful in achieving the “work-life” balance. I don’t know if it is even possible to achieve. Even though the goal may be out of our reach, we still must strive to be intentional about how we spend our time if connection is what we are after. This may mean making it a point to come home from the office at a certain time or scheduling date nights once per month for you and your spouse. We are only given so many hours in a day. We must be intentional with how we use them.

3. Be an Example

Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” This oft quoted phrase epitomizes the personal responsibility that we must take in order to create necessary changes in our families. Once we decide to change our part of the “disconnected” pattern in our families, we invite each member of the family to change as well.

From this day forward, let’s be intentionally mindful of what is really important. Connection.

Fred Flintstone got it right. If only we had a Brontosaurus bone to chew on.

Ask the Expert: Let the Consequences Do the Screaming

My kids won’t do anything I ask unless I scream at them. And they won’t stop doing anything unless I scream some more. How am I supposed to be ScreamFree and get my kids to behave?

Sincerely, 
Screaming in Seattle

First of all, being ScreamFree is not simply about lowering your volume; it’s about raising your integrity. But it is also about lowering your volume. This month, I want to talk about both.

I suspect you weren’t always such a screamer. There was probably a time -- though you might have difficulty remembering back to the good ole days -- when you were calm, even when you had to discipline your children. But if words acted as your discipline, and not consequences, then those words probably began to lose their impact.

The words you once used were no longer effective, so you began using different words, louder words -- perhaps even threatening words -- to get your point across. And now you’re seeing the result of all that. Your words have gotten louder and louder as they’ve been increasingly ignored.

Think about this: you probably feel guilty about all the screaming, and it’s not getting you what you want. And yet you continue in the pattern. Nobody benefits. It sounds a little like addiction at this point. You need more and more of something to get the same effect.

So, how do you stop?

Two words: cold turkey. Stop screaming and return to your normal speaking volume.

I know. I know. That’s easier screamed than said, but if you really want to get your kids to hear you when you speak softly, you must begin to speak softly again. Who knows? It may be such a shock to their systems that they’ll be stunned into listening. That quiet tone may work if only because it causes your children to wonder why all of a sudden you’re so calm. They may wonder what you’re up to. They may even feel sorry for you -- thinking it’s been so many years since you’ve spoken softly you may have finally cracked up.

Of course, shock value is only going to get you so far. To get longterm listening, you’ll need to do something a little more. You’ll have to give your kids a reason to listen. In other words, it’ll have to be in their best interests to listen.

How do you do that? You back up your quiet request with an equally quiet but incredibly clear statement of consequences for ignoring you. For example.

• Empty the dishwasher, or you’ll sit on the couch with no screen time for 45 minutes.
• Don’t text mean things to your sister, or you’ll lose your phone for a week.
• Last one to put away their laundry has to fold all the towels.

This way, you don’t have to scream; you can let the consequences do the screaming for you!

Will your kids ignore your quietly communicated requests? Probably. But over time they’ll come to discover that you actually mean what you softly say. You’ll recover your integrity and lower your volume -- all in one fell swoop!

You don’t need volume to be taken seriously. If diplomacy should fail, you are perfectly willing to back up your rhetoric with action.

So give these ideas a try. Okay? Did you hear me? What did I just say? I said give these ideas a try. Don’t make me say it again: GIVE THESE IDEAS A TRY! HOW MANY TIMES AM I GOING TO HAVE TO TELL YOU GIVE THESE IDEAS A TRY?!

The Impossibility of Leading Without Learning: How My Kid Taught Me How to Lead

There he was, in the open field. His black cleats were gingerly, but purposefully kicking his blue soccer ball. My son, looked focused and determined to score his 2nd goal of his Under 5 (U5) soccer game. As I was watching him sprint down the field using the “tiny kicks” that he had learned in practice, I had mixed emotions. See, I was not only watching as his dad, but as the coach of his team.

I know how competitive my son can be. He had mentioned to me many times during the game how badly he wanted to score another goal. I could sense that he was willing to do anything to accomplish this feat...anything. I wondered if he had picked up on something in me, though. See, I am also the ultra-competitive sort. I wanted to win this game, even though no one was officially keeping score. I was keeping track of the points in the game, however...in my head...and we were losing!

 

As my son approached the goal, I noticed my anxiety spiking. You would think that the competitor in me would appreciate this, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. This was because, my son, all three feet—something of him, was barreling toward the wrong goal! Seconds later, he kicked the ball into the other team’s net.

Conflicted Pride

Can I be honest? At that moment both my thoughts and emotions ran together. I was a little bothered on the inside. After all, this was the coach’s son for goodness sake. I felt all the judgmental eyes of the other parents burning a hole through my body. I assumed they were saying, “What kind of coach is this that his son scores in the wrong goal?” I was so anxious, I didn’t quite know what to do in the moment. Was I supposed to reprimand him? Should I go into some sort of tirade and chase him down the field while giving him a piece of my mind? Was I supposed to send a message that would resonate with the other players? This is the way that some of the coaches that I watch on TV respond. Some of them scream, yell, freak out, curse and throw things. Truthfully, I felt like doing some of that, just to prove that I was a good coach.

So, I ran on the field, my mouth about to shout the words, “No, son!” when I noticed something—my son’s face. I couldn’t read his expression at first. My initial thought was that my son was disappointed and that he realized he kicked the ball into the wrong net, but then I discerned his expression signaled something else. He was demonstrating a different emotion—pride. He was beaming! He was actually proud of himself!

Upon noticing this newfound sense of fulfillment in my son, I quickly stopped myself from screaming. I noticed that suddenly, the supposed judgement of the other parents and my own winning agenda disappeared. Those things didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the look on my son’s face. Instead of yelling, I put my hand up in the air and he ran over to me and completed the “high-five.” I still had a responsibility to him as his coach though. I needed to address the situation of kicking into the other team’s goal, which I did. I said, “Great job. Next time I want you to try to kick the ball in the other goal.”

I was proud of my son—in some sort of twisted, Bizzaro-world type of way. I was also proud of how I attempted to manage my own emotions. Sure, I wish that I could have done a better job regulating my own anxiety, but I am glad that I didn’t react the way in which my emotions were telling me to. I had a ScreamFree coaching moment—which is honestly a bit ironic.

Isn’t It Ironic...

I am a ScreamFree Certified Coach and a Marriage and Family Therapist. I have the pleasure of working with people all over the world in an effort to assist them in becoming a calmer, more connected parent, spouse and leader. Together, the client and I work through a myriad of family situations and scenarios as they seek to become the person they really want to be. With the scenario of a child’s soccer game, however, I almost became the guy I didn’t want to be—the screaming, yelling, pressure inducing coach and dad. While seeking to lead, I almost cast my position into the water like a child who tries to skip a stone.

The greatest leaders of our generation tend to be the type of people that can simply be calm in the midst of chaos, especially when the real turmoil is taking place inside of them. Even some of the sporting world’s most successful coaches share this peace-filled philosophy (think Tony Dungy and Don Shula). The leaders with the greatest amount of influence stay true to who they are while staying focused on the overall goal of the company, organization or team—all while remaining calm.

As parents, we are the first coaches and leaders our kids will meet. We are also the ones that will exhibit the greatest amount of influence over them, for our coaching extends throughout the years. How we choose to lead them will not only affect them now, but far beyond our lifespan. With that being said, we must ponder the type of leaders we want to be. Furthermore, we must continue to ask ourselves if we are leading them out of our calm or from our anxiety.

During my son’s game I found myself leading him and the rest of the boys out of my anxiety. This was because I had forgotten the purpose of the game as well as my purpose as a coach—to have fun. My son’s expression helped to refocus my attention to that which really mattered most. Once I was drawn back to the present I could concentrate on being a ScreamFree Coach—one that doesn’t need to scream, yell and berate players. One that can calmly focus upon the objective of the game and his objective as a leader, to put players in a position to meet their goals. In this case, my son’s goal was just to kick a ball into a net, whichever one that happened to be. Way to go, son!

Bullet Points for Life: Lessons to my children

1. Character matters more than money, smarts, and education. I would rather you be a person of integrity than the smartest, wealthiest person on earth.
2. Life is not fair. It stinks, but it really is true. There will be times when someone else gets the job you are more suited to or another guy/girl gets the date you want. Sadly, that’s part of life. Don’t be surprised when these things happen, but instead, focus on your response to it. What can you learn from it? Choose not to be bitter.
3. Just because a chocolate chip cookie really does make you feel better when you’re down, it doesn’t mean you should partake. Have a good relationship with food. Don’t let it control you.
4. Be kind to the people who hold lesser positions in life, the people who are servers or have menial jobs. In fact, you should have one of those jobs sometime in life to really appreciate the amount of work it involves. Don’t be so proud that you’d never take a job like that. The way that you treat people in those jobs is very telling. When you start to date, notice how your date treats the waiter, the valet, pizza delivery guy, etc. If they are rude or disrespectful to them, move on!
5. Be interested in others. Ask good questions. Don’t always try to be the center of attention. Be a good observer of people, and remember things that people tell you about themselves.
6. Have a good handshake and look people in the eyes when you introduce yourself. Use their name when you meet them, so you can remember it!
7. Be willing to try new things—new foods, new experiences, new hobbies.
8. Laugh, laugh, and laugh some more. Try to find the humor in a situation. And when you do
   
   
   something stupid, laugh at yourself. Don’t take yourself so seriously.
9. Marriage is one of the most important decisions you’ll ever make Bullet Points for Life: Lessons to my children because your relationship with your spouse colors every aspect of your life. Marriage takes work, and just because you have a rough spot in your marriage doesn’t mean you should give up. Work through it because getting to the other side of a problem makes your relationship stronger. Continue to date your spouse; have fun together. Don’t forget what brought you together, but realize that your relationship will grow and change.
10. Learn history—world history, Biblical history, American history, and our family history. Yes, I know it’s not always interesting in school, but there is so much to learn—how God intervenes in people’s lives, how to avoid the mistakes others have made, why we are where we are today.
11. Show kindness to those who are different from you—the outcast, the one with special needs, the new kid in town, the elderly.
12. Be an encourager, not a discourager. The words we say cannot be un-said, so choose your words wisely. Our words can give life or death. Choose life.
13. Learn to do things yourself. Even if you have all the money in the world to call in an expert, if the toilet breaks, learn how to fix it. When the deck needs painting, do it yourself. You’ll eventually learn which things you can do and which really do require an expert. As you know, your dad and I stink at dry wall repair. J
14. Learn to be content. God’s Word says, “Contentment with godliness is great gain.” There will be times when you won’t have everything you want and perhaps even be in need. Seek to be content. Ask yourself, “Do I have food, clothes, and shelter for today?” If the answer is yes, then you have enough.
15. Be grateful. Practice eucharisteo—thankfulness. It’s not something just for the month of November. Slow down and notice all of the graces that God has given—a baby’s belly laugh, warm sheets out of the dryer, sweet tea—and watch joy erupt in your life. Discontent arrives when we focus on what we don’t have. Joy barrels into our lives when we notice what we do have.
16. Explore other cultures. Often we think that our own culture is the best, but that is so shallow. Even if you don’t like it all, look for the good in another culture.
17. Seek to be balanced in life. Work hard, play hard, and rest. We are not slaves, so learn to rest and not feel guilty.
18. One of the most important things in life is learning to extend grace. Be one who is quick to apologize and quick to forgive. We are all sinners and in need of grace. If you don’t believe me, when you have children, you’ll understand your own sinfulness.
19. Take care of your body. Eat well and exercise. You only get one body, so be a good steward.
20. Be authentic. Don’t try to be something you’re not. As someone once said, “Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.”
21. Tell the truth. It’s far easier to be honest than to keep track of your lies.
22. Stay out of debt. I realize that it’s not always possible and sometimes life throws you curve balls, so if that happens, get out of debt as soon as possible. Debt = slavery.
23. Find your passion. Discover the gifts that God has given you—both the skills (the things you’re good at) and the desires (the things you like). Try to find a job that matches both—or create a job that uses both and it will never feel like a job.
24. Do all things with excellence, whether cleaning up after dinner or writing that presentation for school or work.
25. Above all, love God. Pursue Him. Spend time in prayer and studying His Word. And know that He loves you more than any of us can imagine.

Realizing I Didn’t Have as Much Control as I Thought

Have you ever thought about the end goal of parenting? What your primary purpose is as a parent? Do you know where you’re headed?

Look at Alice’s goal (or lack thereof) in this dialogue from Alice in Wonderland.

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" said Alice.
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.           
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

“It doesn’t matter which way you go” if you don’t know where you’re going. If we don’t seriously consider where we’re headed as parents, we’ll likely end up anywhere—maybe some place good, maybe bad. Because parenting is a 24/7 job, too many of us fly by the seat of our pants without ever pondering what the goal of parenting is. We are too busy changing diapers, wiping noses, packing lunches, chauffeuring to practices, and helping with homework to ask ourselves where we are headed. As a result, we don’t ask ourselves those tough questions.

            What is the end goal of parenting?
            What is my primary purpose as a parent?
            What am I seeking to achieve?

Many of us, because we are simply exhausted, will reply: “I’m just trying to make it through each day without one of us dying.” OR “I’m just trying to make sure my kids get through high school (or college) and then they’re on their own.”

Unfortunately, just like Alice in Wonderland, we’ll get somewhere just by walking (or parenting) but it may not be where we want to be and our relationship with our kids may not be what we truly desire.

Whether we realize it or not, here’s our goal of parenting: We are not raising kids; we are raising adults.

Think about that. We are raising adults. That’s the end product of our years of parenting. So what is an adult? It’s someone who is responsible for himself, takes care of his own needs, can make good decisions, is considerate of others, provides for himself, and knows how to manage himself around others. If we are raising adults, then we need to have in mind the “end result” of our parenting. We need to picture them as adults and then ask ourselves how we can help them get there.

When my kids leave my home, they need to know how to take care of their own needs (cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, managing their money, etc.) They need to know how to relate to others in healthy ways. If that’s the case, how do I ensure that TODAY they are learning something that will better prepare them for that day when they leave my nest?

I like to think of children as living in worlds of concentric circles. As toddlers, they are in smaller circles, able to do little bits of things independently. They can put on their own shoes and help to put away their toys. As they get older, they can manage more of their world, so their “circles” increase. They are able to manage their own hygiene, do their own homework, and eventually drive a car. Over time, they should be growing in their privileges and responsibilities, able to take on more and more adult-like tasks as their sphere of influence increases.

So often, though, our own impatience prevents us from allowing our kids to move towards independence. Frankly, it’s easier to do things FOR them rather than take the time to teach them how to do it themselves. At the same time, on an emotional level, sometimes our own anxiety hinders their growth. We are afraid to see them fail, so we act on their behalf. In the end, it’s a control issue. We think that we know best, so we do FOR them what they can do for themselves and we rob them of the chance to grow. Sometimes, in our parenting journey, we think we are in control, but occasionally life gives us the opportunity to realize we aren’t, and we get to watch our kids grow up just a little more.

I had just such an opportunity this summer. My kids flew solo to California to visit their grandparents while I was out of the country. My husband was flying to see me at the same time my kids were flying to Cali. Well, as fate would have it, all flights were delayed, which caused them to miss their connecting flights. The possibility that my children could spend the night alone in the Atlanta or Chicago airport was high. I began getting texts and phone calls half a world away about the delays, but I COULD DO NOTHING. Talk about anxiety producing! Did I mention that there was nothing I could do? UGH!

It was now up to my 15 year old son, who was in charge of his younger brother and sister.

I finally forced myself to get some sleep and when I awoke, I talked to my son. It was midnight in Chicago, and they were boarding their Chicago flight to California. Miraculously, and I mean miraculously, that flight was held/delayed.

“You’ve got to be exhausted. Did you guys sleep at all?”

“Yeah. Reeve and Hannah did, but I stayed awake because I didn’t want us to miss our flight.”

Oh. My. Word.

The maturity that I didn’t even know I could hope for had shown up. I was floored. Here he was, in a big airport, in a highly stressful situation, acting as the protective older brother. It was more than I could handle, so I did what any good mother would do. I cried. (Not that I let him know that.)

“Wow. I am seriously impressed, buddy. I love you.”

When we loosen the reins—or perhaps hand over the reins—we allow our kids the opportunity to become the adults we are raising.

So today, ask yourself if there is a skill that your child needs to learn or a responsibility that needs to be given. Then, squash your anxiety, sit back and enjoy the ride.