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The Fishing Poles
Years ago, when our kids were younger, we bought them fishing poles for Christmas. They were cheap, kid-sized and shrink wrapped to a large cardboard backing. My intentions were good; I was going to introduce my children to the simple joys of fishing.
I have many fond childhood memories of fishing. When I was a small boy, I had some sort of ailment which caused the doctor to recommend a period of rest and quietness. Oh, right. Good luck finding a way to keep an inquisitive, energetic six year-old still. But my wise old grandmother had just the trick.
Off we went to the back yard with a potato rake (one of those stiff, four-pronged thingamajigs that nobody digs potatoes with). I can still hear Granny thumping that rake into the ground, turning over the dirt, and exposing those big, juicy earthworms that were to be our fish bait. Granny would say, “Ain’t that a whopper!” And I’d say, “Yes, Granny, it’s a whopper!” And I would grab that wriggling worm and drop him into the rusty old coffee can.
Mother would then drive the two fishermen to the old fishing hole, cane poles sticking out the back window and lawn chairs in the trunk (yes, we were rednecks). Granny would bait my hook and say, “Now we have to be real still, ‘cause those fish won’t bite if they hear us.” I vividly remember being mesmerized by that cork, waiting for a bump … bump, bump … and the thrill of pulling up a bream or a mullet.
And that’s how you get a six year-old to be still for hours on end.
So, what happened to the fishing poles we bought the kids? I never took them out of the package. We kept them for several years, but eventually the guilt outweighed the good intentions and we finally gave them away.
In last Sunday’s sermon on raising our children, I noted that we don’t have as much time as we think we do, and we miss opportunities that we will later regret. I wasn’t just blowing smoke. I was speaking – painfully – from experience. Now that my children are all in their twenties, my sense of failure in nurturing and guiding them seems to taint the satisfaction of any success. Don’t misunderstand; they are all fine young people in their own right, but that is likely in spite of my shortcomings.
I realize this is natural to some degree. The conscientious tend to reflect on how they could have done better. And we must avoid paralyzing ourselves with exaggerated guilt and a melancholy that robs the present of its joy and purpose. But still … parental failure is hard to dismiss because the stakes are so high.
One of the challenges of life is to live in the present without the wisdom that can only come from that present experience. We all tend to look back and say, “I wish I could do ______________ over again, knowing what I know now.” But we don’t have that luxury. Time is an ever-occurring present, and every passing second is irretrievable. So in each moment we must try to apply the experience we have already gained, listen to wise counsel of those who have lived our situation, pray for guidance and follow the best course of action possible.
But above all, as we strive to bring up our children “in the training and admonition of the Lord” (Eph 6:4), the principles of Scripture must be our guiding beacon. God’s word does not catalog every conceivable circumstance of life, but it does develop godly character within us that can react appropriately even in brand new experiences. There are many things about parenthood that make me wish for a do-over. But I pray that my children will even use my mistakes to become better parents.
