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In daily life, nature’s laws are clear. Gravity doesn’t care what it pulls and holds to the earth Water does not care what it contacts. Rocks or sponges, water covers and penetrates as much as possible. Earth’s soil grows giant redwood trees just as willingly as a blade of grass. Gravity holds a chair as predictably as a book. A rock will not absorb water as well as earth does, and soil gives itself to grow whatever knows how to use it.
Nature’s laws are in place to hold the system of life together. Gravity, water, and earth are connecting according to organizing principles which work for the whole of life, to keep life moving and growing. We humans are equipped with powerful imaginations to help us as we negotiate life’s lawful approach. How can we use gravity, water and earth to benefit this life? How do we use our imaginations with the laws we cannot change? How do we use what is to bring about what we desire?
Fathers on the path of raising children are faced with this question every day. We are guards and guides and cheerleaders for our families. Each experience is part of the ongoing Q & A of “HOW?” How do I help my family grow and expand and enjoy?
In each moment of choice, we are navigating immutable laws. When it comes to our families, our choice is often complicated by the presence of inescapable pain in life. In family life, children experience physical and emotional pain, and often we will be witnesses and unable to stop what has begun. A child with a burn, a cut, hurt feelings, poses a challenge for us as men to participate while letting go of avoiding what has happened.
For me as a human, son, brother, father, grandfather, this daily learning has continued. Sometimes understanding has come with patience and acceptance, sometimes with resistance and fear. The lesson remains. We are capable of and most peaceful when we accept and stay present with the pain our loved ones experience when they are with us.
This became clear to me again this morning as I walked out the back door of our house. A spider drifted out into my path, pulled by the suction of the door swinging open. It was big enough that I paused. When I did I had to inspect more closely, because this wasn’t like any spider I had ever seen. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a spider that had clamped onto a caterpillar, which was struggling for its life.
I stood frozen for a moment, captivated by the raw truth of nature, amazed to see the law of life so brutal and committed. The spider was doing what it understood how to do to stay alive. The caterpillar fought with all its strength and understanding to escape. Watching the struggle I became very uncomfortable. Something inside me revolted at the struggle for life and death. I thought for a moment about trying to free the caterpillar and realized it was already too late. And even if I had opened the door a minute or two earlier, what is my place in this world, witnessing this scene? A deep sense of helplessness and sadness rose up in me and I turned away. Watching the spider and caterpillar was more than I understood how to accept.
I’m using this example because it led to a deeper knowledge within me, and ultimately a healing that led me to write this to you. The dread and fear and injustice of the scene drifted into my grief and sadness for our grandson Hayes, his mother and father, our families who still have not accepted his long and painful death.
Our daughter’s pain is something her mother and I speak of often, touching the inescapable pain and loss for our daughter in vain effort to somehow help, to bring relief. The spider and caterpillar brought up confused and demanding feelings in my body for our daughter, taking me back to barely survivable suffering watching her do everything in her power to keep her son Hayes alive. Ultimately, she had to let go of her son’s precious body, leaving her to find her way in what seems still too painful for words, too painful for worth.
So I sit here sharing with you, fathers whom I hope will not experience such deep and lasting pain. Our willingness to be simply present with our daughters’, sons’ and spouse’s suffering is required of all of us. Dads who are realists learn to accept the complaints, fear, helplessness, pain of our children and wives. It is our place and honor to choose humble presence as our response to our families’ pain.
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Photo credit: Shutterstock