Seldom Should Be Heard a Discouraging Word
Daily Dad August 6
Some of the meanest things I’ve ever said have come when I wasn’t paying attention. When I don’t give responses their proper time to form in my head. I’ve told friends that I don’t have time to care about them. I’ve insulted those who I love and treasure most. I’ve told someone an insult about them that I heard from someone else, passing it off as something I didn’t say. I’ve insulted people by making insinuations and assumptions that go against the fabric of who they are and what they are doing. It is so easy to just spit something out and respond quickly and without care. To not consider the other person in what you are doing, and what is going on in their lives.
Today’s meditation calls us to be intentional about the relationship we want to have with our children. In the same way that meanness comes out when I do not slow myself down, a parent is often caught in the practice of sticking to the little things and always saying no. The result is a negative energy that builds its charge over time, that grows until it consumes the relationship. Ryan Holiday suggests that we count our yeses and nos and that we be intentional about what we focus on and how we respond.
It is also important to point out that you’ll have to say no if you are to be a good parent. Having rules and enforcing them is part of the gig. The last thing you want to be is your child’s yes man, who allows them to run wild and not adhere to any set of moral or behavioral codes. There were many kids who I went to school with who had parents like that. Who spoiled them, as it is said, rotten. Kids who sought out the no, who would push the boundaries of their relationship as a child to find out where the wall was, a lot of times to the detriment of their safety and wellness.
The meditation calls for a balance between encouragement and discouragement. It calls for the focus of discouragement to be targeted and sharp, aimed like a bullet, while encouraging a widespread broadcast of encouragement.
When I think about my childhood and how my father practiced this intentionality, the thing that sticks out to me is the amount of yeses and nos that he gave. Was there a lot of nos? Of course. Was there a lot of yeses? Also of course. This is a sign of his presence, of his willingness to be engaged with my life. Almost every decision I had to make I knew I could count on his input. They were the guardrails, and the pins at the end of the lane. I never found his advice to be anything other than sound. He never shied away if I asked him an awkward or hard question, and sought to answer me with a yes or no as best he could.
When I got in trouble in elementary school for calling a girl stupid, he took me for a drive and sat with me, trying to figure out my side of the story. For all his effort, I wasn’t able to say what caused me to say the thing that I did- that I had a crush on the girl, that it was something that was not one-off or even that targeted. I had crushed on just about every girl back then, and called most of them stupid. When he handed my punishment to me, that I wasn’t allowed to watch TV or play video games for the rest of the year, I took it greedily. I wanted to feel absolved of the crime, to pay, and just get the thing over with. He made his no stern, but with it came a yes- if you ever need to talk to me, I am here. I’ll sit with you for hours in a parking lot while you sob and cannot talk. Even if you aren’t able to say what it is that’s bothering you, I’ll always have the patience to sit and listen.
Yes, I am here for you.