The Brutallity of Parenting...and the Ultimate Too

Parenting is tough….there…I said it…sometimes tough crosses over to brutal…at least for the parent and especially when you see your kid suffering through some growing pains of life.

My oldest son had a tough 4^th grade year.  Where friends he had from his kindergarten years turned on him…where being “giving a hard time” became bullying.  We navigated those murky waters together. I told him about times when it happened to me as a kid…we talked about qualities of a true friend….and people in general.  I told him that although, right at this moment, it seems really really dark…that you will come through this a better person…you will know who your real friends are….and you will learn more about people that will serve you well in life….and you will look back on this as only a small hiccup of life.

We talked about what the Bible said about such incidents....and then I shared with him one of my favorite poems….IF…by Rudyard Kipling. 

That was over 2 years ago. 

This school year, He came to me and said that he had to memorize a poem in School…that it had to be between 10 to 20 lines long.  He went on to say that he selected “IF”.  I responded, “The poem was a lot longer than 20 lines”…and “Why did you select that one?” “Dad,” he responded, “When you shared that with me, it meant the world….I will always remember that!”

These days are much better...and that is the ebb and flows here on earth.

Yep…parenting can be tough…but the rewards are the ultimate, causing the bleakness of the task to fade into the twilight of life.

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling