Summer Lunch

     Summer brings teachers many blessings; sleeping in, BBQ, a chance to catch up on deferred maintenance to name a few. Teachers shoehorn these in among the various professional development tasks we undertake during the time without students. This summer I enjoyed attending a good seminar hosted by a local university, read several books on American History, yes my future students will profit from the books, and developed a new set of lesson plans. Yet all of these pale in the bright light of regular lunch with my daughter.

     Parenting is an odd experience. Someone hands you a squirmy, squally, slippery creature resembling a wrinkled red lizard and you’re off to the races. For years you attempt to guide them into

adulthood, informing, shepherding, cajoling, sometimes hectoring, and when required lecturing. For years you focus with laser-beam precision on all their decisions…at least the ones teenagers inadvertently let you in on. Then one day, they either move away or get married and the dynamic totally changes. The make all of their decision on their own. The little child is now an adult with all the attendant freedoms and responsibilities. Somebody up in the heavenly personnel division changed your job description and you missed the email.

     Candace and Teagan, her husband who is a great guy by the by, moved this summer and needed us to watch their cat for a while. Candace delivered Kimmy, who responded by romping around the house with reckless abandon. Each day Candace came by to eat lunch and pet her pet for a few minutes. I was amazed at the poised willowy young woman sitting across from me over leftovers or quesadillas. The hesitant, somewhat prickly teenager had disappeared, replaced by a confident thoughtful, unusually wise adult. Somebody shifted the ground underneath me and I found the experience profoundly disturbing and gratifying at the same time.

     Candace was never what I would term a rebellious teenager. Reasonably compliant and obedient she never caused great problems. That said; she, like her father, harbored a certain stubborn streak. As they say, “The apple does not fall far from the tree.” Consequently during the last couple of years she lived at home Candace and I did not communicate very effectively. This was not her fault. Christy often reminded me that I did not make things exactly easy on Candace. When we disagreed, which seemed to happen frequently, I found it hard to have a rational discussion with her. Now here we were enjoying meals while discussing a wide variety of topics, some of which we do not agree about. Now Candace was asking me my thoughts on subjects and listening attentively while I prattled on. What happened? How did this transformation come about?

     First of all, I stopped treating Candace like she was the little girl who danced in the sun at my change of command. Right or wrong, good or bad, Candace remains that little girl in my mind. During the change of command ceremony she wore her favorite multi-colored dress which lifted up when she spun around. Entranced by the dappled shadows cast by camouflage netting, she kicked off her shoes and danced spinning around until dizzy. That image remains, forever etched on the big-screen of my memory. Whenever I think of Candace, that memory pops up. That Candace no longer exists. She’s not that little girl anymore. Oh, the goodness of that age remains, but she does not need that kind of parent anymore. She can cross the street without holding my hand. She’s found a new, better, hand for her to hold.  She needs a different kind of father now.

     I support more and shape less. She has the reigns of her life in her hands. She and Teagan do not need my shaping input. They need my support as they make the decisions. I’m not the responsible party. I like this role. It is more fun. Now, I do not bear the burden of decision making. I get to give input as requested, but mostly I get to encourage, build up, and embolden. I like this role. It suits me, and suits me well.

     Secondly, Candace matured into the ability to take input, keeping what she wanted, and discarding the rest. Now we sit across the table as adults. When I mellowed, she mellowed as well. We do not find disagreement quite so threatening any more. I trust that Candace will make a generally good and wise decision with predictable positive results. It may not be my decision, but it’s not going to be a stupid one. My relinquishing that responsibility freed both of us. Now I do not have to worry and make every decision for her and she does not feel pressure to comply with my dream or vision of her reality. She’s free to pursue her own. Now when she seeks my counsel, that’s what she gets, not my direction.

     Finally, Candace married well. She and Teagan make a great couple. They have a bright future stretching out in front of them. Oh, there will be bumps and potholes along the way, but together they will figure things out. Now, she has a husband, not a grumpy, worried, and worrisome father. They face their challenges together, seeking corporate solutions; consequently, when she comes to me for my opinion she feels no pressure to comply, she’s just asking what I think. If she doesn’t like what I say, she can disregard. I know that and am comfortable in the fact that as the writer in Ecclesiastes 4:12 says, “Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken.” And no, I do not think of myself as the “third” cord. That place belongs to the Lord. When she chose Teagan, she chose a Godly man.

     I love Proverbs 27:11 which says, “My son, be wise, and make my heart glad, that I may answer him who reproaches me.” I take the liberty to apply this verse to my daughter. Candace is making my heart glad. I do not write this as a reproach to either of my sons. I’ve just enjoyed time with my daughter this summer. It has been a blessing of my profession and my God.