Part 10 (2/2)

He knew that I had played basketball most of my life, and that I valued my kids' partic.i.p.ation in team sports because of the terrific groundwork I believe it lays for future team-leaders.h.i.+p roles. I'm sure he knew his words would hit me hard.

”Why don't you want to play?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral and my expression receptive.

”Well, two reasons,” he said. ”For one, whenever I get fouled during a game, I hate standing on the free-throw line with a whole gymnasium full of people watching me shoot. I don't think I like playing sports in front of big crowds.”

”And the second reason?” I asked.

”Dad, none of the other kids are taking the game very seriously. If I'm going to be on a team, I want to practice hard and do my best. It would be fun if everybody felt that way, but they don't. I just don't want to play anymore.”

In that moment, I knew that either I could lay down the law and force my son to play basketball, or I could allow for the fact that Todd is different from me, that team sports just might not be his thing.

I asked Todd how much longer try-outs would run-three days, it turned out-and said, ”How about you give me three days to pray about this, and you pray about it too, and then on Friday we'll talk again.”

Over the course of those seventy-two hours, I felt a strong sense from the Holy Spirit that Todd probably was more wired up to do individual sports as opposed to team sports. He never had been a ”public” kid-even when he'd won awards along the way, he had to be pushed to go to the front of the banquet room to receive them. He was a shy boy, plain and simple. What's more, Willow already was quite large by that time, and I wondered if the visibility of Lynne's and my life might also be taking a toll on our son.

By Friday of that week, G.o.d was whispering to me, ”Let Todd go the way I have created him, Bill. Trust that this new path will lead him in a positive direction.” Todd and I talked, and together we agreed that quitting basketball was the right thing for him. The relief on his face was palpable. The following week, Todd and I informed his coach that he would not be playing ball his eighth-grade year, and although the coach was deeply disappointed, my son never once looked back.

Proverbs tells parents to train up their kids in the way they should go. I've heard parents use this verse as a justification for pus.h.i.+ng their child into conformity, regardless of his or her G.o.d-given temperament. I've since come to understand that there are two layers of wisdom in that verse. Scholars who study this text are convinced that the writer-in addition to encouraging parents to teach a child to surrender to G.o.d and practice righteousness-was also challenging parents to discover the natural apt.i.tudes and abilities of their children, and to encourage their children's pursuit of the path that is theirs uniquely to walk. In addition to pouring out ma.s.sive amounts of love onto your kids and setting appropriate limits along the way, another vital gift you can give your children is a discerning a.n.a.lysis of the special abilities G.o.d put into their lives and a gradual drawing-out of those competencies so that a young kid eventually can find his own particular path. It's exactly what I needed to do with Todd.

Incidentally, after Todd quit basketball, he immediately took up s...o...b..arding, snowmobiling, motorcycle racing and surfing -all individual sports that he became very good at over time. The point is, Todd's life has proven out what I believe G.o.d revealed to me in that whisper: my kid's strong need for independence was something he couldn't-and shouldn't-be talked out of. Instead of forcing Todd into my predetermined mold, I needed to help pave G.o.d's path for his life.

Parenting brings varying degrees of difficulty that range from no-brainer stuff, like teaching your kids general civility and basic table manners-things you could teach your dog to do-to mind-bending dilemmas that involve their morals, their character and their future. During those highly intense parenting moments when you're wondering whether to exhibit grace or clamp down, whether to manifest low control or high, whether to forgive them or make them pay, whether to spare them from consequences or let them feel the full brunt, a little divine help is needed. It is then that G.o.d whispers, ”Stay wide open to my guidance, and I promise to show you the way.”

One night when Shauna was sixteen, I was preparing to go to bed when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Thinking it was Shauna arriving home for the night, I remember being glad that I wouldn't have to worry about making sure she met curfew and that for once I could enjoy a sound night's sleep.

That's not exactly how things would go down.

En route to my bedroom, I glanced outside through the front windows and saw Shauna jumping out of a car that was parked in our driveway. The dome light revealed a back seat packed with kids from her school. Seconds later, she burst through the front door and blew past me.

”Hi, honey. You okay?” I asked.

”I can't get into it right now, Dad,” she hollered from the hallway as she dashed toward her room. ”My friends are all waiting, and I have to get my stuff.”

So much for beating curfew.

I suggested to her that right now would actually be a perfect time to ”get into it,” explaining that as her dad, I needed to know where she was going and what she intended to do. ”Please slow down and help me understand the plan,” I said with as much kindness as I could manage.

In a flurry of sentences she informed me that she was headed to spend the night at a friend-of-a-friend's house, and that she was ”pretty sure” it was in Lake Geneva, which is about an hour's drive from our house.

”Dad, I have to go!” she declared. ”They're all waiting for me in the car.”

”Shauna, I need more information than you're giving me,” I said. ”Like, who is this friend of a friend, and exactly where in Lake Geneva will you be? And are any parents going to be there?”

I'm not entirely sure what kind of response I expected from Shauna. After all, this was the same kid who at age three frequently rode her Big Wheel down the sidewalk, past the fence post that was a declared boundary for her. She knew that riding beyond that certain point on the street was forbidden, but she still would do it. One day, after yet another boundary infraction, Lynne kneeled down, face-to-face with Shauna, put both hands on her little shoulders and said, ”Shauna, if you ride past that fence post one more time, I'm going to spank your little rear end. I don't want to, but I will!”

Shauna looked up at her mother, raised her hind side toward the sky and said, ”Then spank me now, because I'm going riding!”

But back to our entryway on that Lake Geneva night. In lieu of answering any of my questions, Shauna did something she had never done before. She approached me, looked me straight in the eye and said, ”Dad, unless you physically stop me, I am going to go to this party.”

My jaw dropped. I was speechless. My little girl! The one whose diapers I had changed! (Well, a couple of times...) The one I had taken to McDonald's every Sat.u.r.day morning for years, just so we could enjoy dad/daughter time. The one I had dragged with me on speaking trips all over the world, just so she and I could hang out at the hotel after my obligations were fulfilled and have breakfast together the following morning. Was this the same girl who was now going toe-to-toe with me, defying my authority?

I stared at her incredulously. Her face bore a defiant look that conveyed, ”It's a new day, Dad.”

My mind whirred, and my thoughts wrestled to untangle themselves from one another. Clearly, I was out of my league here. What was I supposed to say? Or do?

As I took a deep breath, I sensed a strong prompting from the Holy Spirit: ”Don't even think about physically restraining this young girl. This thing will go south so fast if you engage in that way. We are in new territory now, it is a new day, and you're going to have to put her in my hands. There is nothing more that you can do.”

I didn't have time to question G.o.d on the parenting advice he was giving me. I only had time to obey. I took a step backward, eyed my insubordinate daughter and rattled off the only things I could think to say: ”Honey, take my cell phone. You can call me anytime-at any hour of the night-and ask me to come get you. I'll drive to wherever you are and pick you up immediately. Any hour. Don't get into a car with anyone who has been drinking. I love you. I'm disappointed in your decision tonight. But I love you. I don't feel good about this at all, but if you're this determined to go, then I will not physically restrain you.”

As soon as the last syllable was out of my mouth, Shauna brushed by me.

”Thanks, Dad!”

And she rushed outside to climb into her friend's idling car. The door slammed, and they were gone.

The Lake Geneva incident would be the first in a series of similarly confounding parenting challenges where Shauna was concerned. One of the more significant occasions happened while she was away at college in California. Through a series of events that are hers to tell,2 halfway into her undergrad experience she found herself making choices that distanced her from G.o.d and compromised the commendable character she'd built. Things eventually escalated to the point that Lynne and I decided I should fly out to California and try to talk some sense into Shauna, face-to-face.

After negotiating a tricky schedule, I designated the day, boarded the jet and later met my daughter at a sidewalk cafe in Santa Barbara.

After the usual catching-up conversation was behind us, I dove in.

”Shauna, the reason I'm here is that your mom and I are getting increasingly worried about you. We're concerned that you're heading down a dangerous path.”

She looked at me intently, seeming almost sympathetic to my concerns.

And so I kept going.

”Honey, we want you to know that we love you, and that it's never too late to get back on the high road, to choose a G.o.d-honoring way of life...”

Still she gazed my way.

”...and so I'm just going to ask you outright: Do you think you might be ready to modify your course a bit?”

The question hung in the air like an invisible matzo ball. She stared at me through her clear, blue eyes. I stared back. The silence lingered.

Then, after the subtlest of lip twitches, she proffered an answer. I felt my eyebrows rise as I antic.i.p.ated concession on her part.

”Yeah, um, I don't think so,” she said. ”I've still got a lot of life left to live.”

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