My Son Slept Through His First Class

Our oldest son, a senior in high school, wakes himself up every morning around 6:00a.m. for his workouts. Last week, he came home around 7:30a.m., showered, ate breakfast, set an alarm, and laid down for a quick 20-minute nap before heading back to school.

His alarm went off. He woke up, turned it off, laid his head back down “just for a second”…and woke up 30 minutes later, having missed his first class.

No excuses. No blaming. He owned it, grabbed his stuff, and headed out the door.

I was working from home that morning, so I had a front-row seat in the situation.

I also had a choice in how to respond...and here were my options:

• Anger? I can’t believe how irresponsible you are.
  
  
• Discipline? I’m gonna teach you a lesson.
  
  
• Guilt trip? This is not the young man I raised.
  
  
• Ignore it? Act like I didn’t notice. Pretend it didn’t happen. Pray the school doesn’t call.
  
  
• Relationship. Recognize it for what it was—an honest mistake (and we all make them).
  
  

I chose the latter. My words as he rushed out of the house were simple: “Be careful driving, Bud. Love you.”

Later that day I sent him a text:
“Ya know, Pal, I’ve been late to things in my life too. Some important, some not. It didn’t stop me from achieving some success along the way. No need to beat yourself up. Apologize and move on. If someone wants to hold it against you, that’s their burden to carry. Enjoy the day. Love you.”

What I hoped he heard: It’s okay to stumble. It’s okay to not be perfect. It’s all ok.

The truth is, the people who dare to make mistakes—who push limits, speak up, or show up differently—are the ones who move us forward.

• The dad who shows up ten minutes late to work because he stopped for donuts with his kids on the way to school.
  
  
• The coworker who risks offering a perspective different from their supervisor.
  
  
• The friend who dresses, speaks, or shares in unique ways that make others raise an eyebrow.

They may not always get it right, but they are willing to try. But when they win, the whole group often benefits from a better idea, a more effective process, or a new way of seeing the world.

I’m not talking about excusing chronic underachievement. I’m talking about encouraging the bravery it takes to risk failure for the chance of creating something better.

Those are the kids I want to raise.

My dad did the same for me. He didn’t chastise me when I came home from the state basketball tournament with a pierced ear. Or later, black/pink basketball shoes, or a variety of different hairstyles from a perm, to a bleach-blond rat tail, to lightening bolts shaved into my hairline. In our small Kansas farmtown, that was pushing the limits.

He saw it…and allowed me to run my course.

Because of that, I grew up knowing it was okay to try, risk, fail, and try again. That attitude allowed me to backpack through Europe, move to NYC, bike through Maine, find my way through Hawaii and waterski in California.

Now, I continue to encourage my kids to do the same. 

In the end, the measure of success isn’t perfection…or even a win. But maybe the greatest success lives in the courage to keep showing up and in the adventure to be enjoyed.

Remain Encouraged,

Brian