The Blog Begins

No parent is ever ready and willing to see his child placed in danger. Parents spend a good part of their time trying to protect their children from danger. It is part of the job. We know from our own growing up that it is a miracle we lived to pass the age of 21, when the cerebral cortex finally begins to get its act together and permit us to actually be able to predict some consequences of our actions.

The position of "Parent", "Dad, "Mom", "Grandma", "Grandpa" is a lifelong job. No Retirement age, or pension. Just love, if we have done our job right. Even our own death does not remove the responsibility of being a good parent. The positive lessons we hopefully have taught our children will help them throughout their lifetime and even be passed on to their children.

Last week, Ann Gibson, a FASlink friend in Germany, died of a pulmonary embolism. She was also battling cancer. She had an incredible passion for life and her huge family as well as great dedication to the cause of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders. Her signature tag line was, "Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in on your backside thoroughly used up, totally worn out and proclaiming loudy: "Wow, what a ride!"" She lived that philosophy to the fullest.

We look back on our own adventures, experiences, decisions and their unexpected consequences, with amusement and philosophy. I think Ann's tag line says it all. But dare we tell our kids of some of our riskier adventures?

So when my 32 year-old son, Scott, told me he was going to spend 10 months in Iraq in the lion's den at a place called Camp Slayer, I had a typical parental reaction - and expressed my concerns in a variety of languages. He is not in the Armed Forces. He did his time with the National Guard and served with distinction at the Olympics and during the Georgia Floods. He is now a private citizen with dual Canadian and American citizenship working for a research company.

I do appreciate that my son is age 32, extremely bright and capable, morally and physically strong and everythiing a parent could want in a son or daughter. He reminded me that at age 15, I was on an archaeological expedicion to the Yukon Territory in Northern Canada, at times in very risky situations. I survived. It was my first major adventure and was the single most formative period in my life. That summer matured and changed me forever. I reminded Scott that the bears and moose weren't hunting me. Iraq was a different ballgame. He promised to wear his flak jacked and cover his butt, etc.

The strong parental instinct is to protect your child from danger. I can now better appreciate the concerns my parents had when I travelled 4,000 miles away from home to live back in the mountains for the summer. Scott may be a full-grown, extremely capable man, but he is still my child. Grrrrr. But as every parent must, I have to support his decisions and give the greatest encouragement possible. In the same circumstances, I might well have made the same decisions.

There is no doubt but that this adventure will be a life-changing experience for Scott. He will face situations he never dreamed of. And he will endure lonliness and boredom. He does not take stupid risks but he will make himself stretch. He will challenge God, probably more seriously than he has ever done so before. But in his challenge, he will grow and develop a far deeper faith than he could ever predict. And the faith will be real, based not on Sunday School lessons, but on the day to day realities of living in a war zone. There are no Atheists in foxholes. He will also develop a deeper patience with himself and with others. He will learn about other cultures and faiths. He will find that regardless of culture or creed, families are striving for the same goals - even though their pathways are different. Most of all, he will discover himself.

"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in on your backside thoroughly used up, totally worn out and proclaiming loudy: "Wow, what a ride!""

So on Tuesday, September 21, 2004, my first born entered the Lion's Den.