HIS OWN WORST SELF
Jim Sheils has a clear purpose: to deepen relationships and improve education. He is an entrepreneur and author of the popular book, The Family Board Meeting, which is helping parents worldwide reconnect with their kids in fun and experiential ways. Jim is an avid surfer and lives in St Augustine, Florida, with his beautiful wife, Jamie, and his four children.
" FATHER FORGETS "
AND BECOMES HIS OWN WORST SELF
I’ LL NEVER get to meet W. Livingston Larned, but what he did almost one hundred years ago changed my approach to parenting. Mr. Larned wrote an editorial titled“ Father Forgets.” It has since been widely published and even used by Dale Carnegie to show the biggest mistake people make in human relationships.
I challenge you to see if some of his message belongs to you as well.( I edited the wording to match more with the times.)
“ Listen, my young son, I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little hand crumpled under your cheek, with brown curls sticking to your little forehead. I’ ve snuck into your room alone to tell you something. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat writing emails, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me.
Son, I’ ve been cross with you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you were not moving fast enough. I got on you for goofing off with your brother. I called out angrily when I saw you left the bathroom a mess.
And as you started off to play and I rushed out to the car, you turned, waved a hand, and called out,‘ Goodbye, daddy!’ I gave you half a frown and replied,‘ Hold your shoulders back!’
Then it began all over again in the afternoon. As I drove up, I saw your bike lying in the road. I humiliated you in front of your friends by marching you into the house ahead of me. Bikes are expensive. If you had to buy them, you would be more careful!
Imagine this, from a father!
Do you remember later on, when I was in my office writing emails, how you came in timidly with a hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced over my laptop, impatient with the interruption, you hesitated at the door.
‘ What is it?’ I snapped
You said nothing, but you ran across the room and threw your arms around my neck and gave me a hug, your small arms tightened with affection that God had set in your heart and which even my neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.
Well, son, shortly afterwards, I abruptly shut my laptop as a sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding— this was my reward to you for being a boy? I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.
And there was so much good in your own character. Your little heart was as big as the dawn it-self. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to run in and hug me good night.
Now, I come to your bedside and I kneel here ashamed!
Tomorrow I become a real dad. I will pal around with you, suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatience comes. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual:‘ He is but a young boy.’
I am afraid I visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now crumpled and weary in your bed, you are still a baby.
Yesterday, you were in your mother’ s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much. Please forgive me.”
I always swore I wouldn’ t be the parent who focuses on the negative, on the“ one bad grade.” I promised myself I wouldn’ t be the parent who pointed out the small stuff, the insignificant short-comings.
But before we know it, too many days like the one described above pass by, then another, and another. A hypnotic rhythm forms, taking you to a finish line you don’ t want to reach or even realize you’ re heading towards.
Thanks, Mr. Larned, for having the courage to write this so many years ago. I can do better.
24 WINTER 2017