As a parent, one of the things I dread is seeing my children suffer in any way. Several years ago, I was out walking with my kids, my [then] 4-year-old daughter was running far ahead of us, and my [then] 2-year-old daughter lagged behind.
The younger one was approaching a hole in the ground and I clearly saw that she was about to step in it, trip, fall, and cry. I was tempted to redirect her away from the hole, but I resisted my temptation to see what she would do. She did exactly as I predicted. It was an awful feeling to knowingly allow your child to suffer pain. I comforted her, of course, but I put her down near the hole again to [again] see what she would do. Sure enough, she saw it and walked right by it.
Too often, I try to prevent my children from suffering – in large part because it hurts me more than them. I work very hard to give them all of the opportunity, character, strength, wisdom and blessing that I may have lacked growing up. I think that when I see my child suffer, I feel that I failed them in some way – that I didn’t meet a need at just the right time. But the ironic thing is that suffering (as unattractive as it is) is the one teacher that seems to show up consistently in our lives, and has the potential to teach us the best life lessons. If I look at my own life, did I become who I am today from frequent success? Absolutely not. I developed character in those less than perfect moments; in those moments where I made colossal mistakes that cost me dearly; in those times where I had to deal with IMPOSSIBLE personalities; and in those times where the Universe strategically placed me in a less than optimal (even toxic) situations.
Suffering is a necessary part of life, and regardless of who we are, where we live, or how much we have in the bank, Suffering finds us all. None of us are immune to it, and no matter how much we pay in insurance premiums – suffering always finds a way to break through our myriad forms of emotional insulation, shielding, and suppression. Those of us (like me) who are slow to figure out that we actually are going through a tough time, find it coming out in different ways – often more negative ways. For example, we’ll get angry and frustrated more easily over the smallest and silliest things. I find that at home that when I get mad about something, I’m not usually mad at the situation in front of me, but it’s something else that’s bothering me – that I won’t admit to myself. In every 12 step program admitting “I” have a problem is the very first step, and often half the battle. The problem is, I don’t like admitting that I’m going through tough times. I want to appear strong, capable, and together. I don’t want to admit that I’m afraid, anxious, torn and utterly crumbling inside. I don’t want to admit the “camel’s back” is already broken. I don’t want to admit that I feel crushed under the weight of my problems. But you know, on the other side of suffering, after it has done its job properly, and after I’ve listened to the lessons that it was trying to teach me, something GLORIOUS happens…
Redemption. That state of being released or restored from emotional captivity through the payment of my suffering. If I’ve paid attention, on the other side of suffering – I am wiser, I have a deeper sense of joy and gratitude, and most importantly I realize that I AM strong, I AM capable, I AM together, and I AM MORE than what I believe I am.
Looking at me on the surface, you would think I had a charmed life. Quite the contrary. I have suffered a great deal, and I’m glad I have because I wouldn’t be who I am without it. This is the challenge I have with my children and anyone I seek to help. I would give advice to people to prevent them from making obvious mistakes, but often they would ignore my advice, make the mistake anyway, and come back and say “You were right, Mark. I shouldn’t have done that”. While I feel gratified to know that I was right, what I repeatedly learn in those situations is that people often need to suffer to learn for themselves.
So as a parent, I find it’s okay to occasionally let your kids trip over their own [proverbial] holes. They’ll be more careful the next time, and that is the point (or at least one of the many points) of suffering.
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