The Power of the River

Before he learned to ride a bike, my son could paddle his own kayak confidently down the river.  This was not necessarily intentional on our part, but in Montana’s ever so brief summer, the water has a much stronger draw than the pavement. Watching this small child afloat on his own island, the churning water pulling him ever forward, I felt both awe and terror.  Awe at watching this child I nursed from infancy transforming into a brave and independent young man.  Terror knowing the unforgiving power of the river in the wrong situation. 

This is the strange paradox of motherhood—encouraging your child to fly while at the same time suppressing the persistent fear that he might crash and that you would not survive it.  But suppress it I do, because one of my biggest priorities as a mother is to avoid instilling a spirit of fear in my children. 

So often, parents, eager to protect their children from danger, inadvertently communicate that so much in the world is to be feared.  Unfortunately, rather than helping them avoid danger, in the long run this approach actually makes children more vulnerable.  Yet, the alternative is not simply throwing them to the wolves and hoping for the best.  It is teaching them to have a healthy respect for the power of things.  To understand their relationship to them and to have the ability to make wise decisions with that information.  And the only way to accomplish this is through allowing them to encounter powerful things firsthand and guide them in overcoming them.  I have chosen to embrace a life that allows my kids to have these experiences, despite my own discomforts.

A river is sweeping over us right now.  It is long and winding and full of surprises and many of us are unprepared to navigate it.  It has the power to take what is dearest to our hearts in what seems like a moment.  And whether it is someone we deeply care for, our livelihood, or simply our feeling of community, we have all lost something. 

This pandemic has spurred many things, from fear, to anger to despair.  Just like the river, I prefer to approach it instead with respect.  I want to show my kids that we need not shrink in terror at every news report, but that we do need to respect the power of the virus to cause harm and treat it appropriately.

Before my son ever set foot in a boat, we led him into the current and practiced what to do if he were to fall out.  And now, after a few years on his own, he has had the genuine experience on more than one occasion.  When this happens, there is always an initial panic, followed by a valiant effort to regain his bearings, and finally pride in having overcome the obstacle and being able to continue on the course.

Whether you imagine them exploring the world or getting advanced degrees, I am willing to bet that your hopes for your kids will require them to practice a fair amount of courage.  In fact, your dreams for yourself surely require the same thing.  Figuring out what that looks like in times such as these may be more difficult, but far from impossible.  And what an amazing example for our kids to take a difficult situation and rather than putting up walls built of fear, choosing to grow from the challenge and come out the other side stronger.

This is a strange time to live through.  There is a constant low-level stress from the uncertainty of what tomorrow will hold and the sudden unfamiliarity with how to act in everyday situations.  We are weary of the constant vigilance that it requires to plan anything, to go anywhere.  This is hard, and it is easy to be overwhelmed.  That. Is. Ok.  Feel it, but don’t dwell there.  Give yourself grace, but also explore what will help you feel empowered.  Don’t stay on the shore—practice navigating the river. 

Above all, don’t live in fear, but act always out of love with respect for the power of the river.