By BOB FUSELIER
Los Alamos
From time to time I’m reminded that lessons learned years ago from our elders still retain their power to teach. My Dad died over 23 years ago, yet his words and actions are still guiding me. A lot of what I learned from him came from moments he wasn’t trying to teach me anything. The more I think of it, the majority of his most important lessons were given at those times teaching me something was the last thing on his mind. I would hope that my children could say something similar in spite of the fact that I “tried” to teach a lot.
I remember distinctly one lesson my Dad offered me when Susie, I, and the kids were visiting him and my Ma some 30 years ago. After a couple of days of my folks catering to most of my children’s wishes and turning a blind eye to their mischievous acts, I asked my Dad, “Why are you treating my kids like this? You never let me get away with any of these things when I was their age.”
He answered simply, “I don’t have to worry how they turn out.”
I thought I understood at that moment what he meant. It wasn’t that he wasn’t concerned with their future. He was, but it was my job to worry, not his. His role was that of all grandparents: to give their grandchildren unconditional love and leave the curse of worrying to the parents.
But there was much more wisdom in my Dad’s reply than I was ready to hear at that time. Over the years I’ve come to realize, too slowly no doubt, that no one should be worrying about how his or her children will turn out. Concerned, of course, but not worried. For it is the worrying that gets us parents in trouble.
As I look back on the big mistakes I made as a parent, they all seem to center around me being worried about how my children will “turn out”. All parents want the best for the children, that they can make it on their on, that they will find a rewarding and interesting career, and that they will find joy and happiness in their lives and with their families. We want the same for the children of all those we know and love. But we only worry about our children.
I’m sure all parents have had similar experiences as I have had with friends who, having a problem with a child of their own, needed to talk to someone willing to listen. Such was the case when a friend, in great distress, was sharing the difficulties of some child-rearing crisis involving his child who I knew fairly well. (By the way, I think there was a typo in the story of Genesis when it was written that God told Adam and Eve after “the fall” that child bearing would be difficult. Hats off to all women who have gone through labor, but I’m sure the “b” was supposed to be an “r”). Empathizing with my friend, for I had been through similar crises, I said something to the effect, “I wouldn’t worry. Sam is a great kid and will do just fine.” I could say that because Sam wasn’t my son or daughter. If Sam were my child, I’d be the one in distress.
What exactly is it that parents worry about? I’ve learned long ago to start looking deeper, to reflect on what’s pushing me around, whenever I find myself worrying. For me, the worrying part was not about my child’s future but, rather, about me and my future. How will what my child has done affect what others think of me? How will it affect my social standing? Will my child grow out of this phase or is it a sign of something longer lasting, something that I will have to deal with in my later years? Will my child be dependent on me forever? Will this behavior lead to something worse, something that affects his or her ability to find true happiness and be independent of me or result in a debilitating illness, even death?
These concerns are real concerns of every parent. However, concern is one thing, worry another. Whenever I made parenting decisions from a stance of worry, the results were not good. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that whatever parenting decision I made that wasn’t good was made when I was worrying. Good things can’t flow from worry.
Crises will come. Tragedies will happen. While seeking to minimize their chances of occurring is a challenging parental task, worrying helps nothing and often worsens the problem. Without worry, concerns can be seen for what they are. Love can enter the equation. And, when love enters, whatever results, it will be ok.
It would be nice to start parenting with all the wisdom of our elders, wisdom that came from their long lives and the mistakes they made. But I’m not going to worry about that. A wise one once said that there are no mistakes in life, only lessons to be learned and that the lessons will be repeated until they are learned. That’s something not to worry about.
