Road Less Traveled
So my wife, Marion, is studying for her recertification as a Physician Assistant. I’m proud of her, but not envious. To give her time to study, she suggested I take our four kids, 4-13, over to a nearby park for the afternoon. Cool, I love the park, and it has a great trail I run on some mornings.
So, we are off.
Caleb, who is 10 and my oldest boy, feels most alive when he is outdoors, free from of the confines of any four walls. Outside means he can be loud, he can run, he can explore, he can be a boy – none of which are much fun inside our house.
What’s unique about our walk on the trail is that we had no time constraints, no agenda, and no need of a real plan. I can’t tell you how rare that moment felt. The only goal was to get out of the house and give my wife some time alone to study for a few hours, did I mention I was not envious of that?
As soon as our 4, 8, 10, and 13-year-old kid’s feet hit the trail, Caleb took off running, which is fine and normal – he is part Labrador (must be on his father’s side).
A moment later, we notice that Caleb has taken a smaller path. Kylie, my only girl, decides to follow him. Cool. As the younger two and me two continue to walk on the winding trail, we notice there is a 7-foot wide stream separating Caleb & Kylie from us. Not a big deal, the stream is less than a foot deep.
Caleb and Kylie look at one another and shrug, as they have correctly calculated that they cannot clear the stream in a Superman type bound. Caleb walks deeper into the woods and comes back with a significant portion of a tree trunk that he rolls toward the small decline leading to the water. With a swift kick, the log lands in the water. With a little jostling, he has the log positioned as a ramp that will keep him dry, increase his runway to jump, and decrease the amount of distance he needs to clear. Keep in mind the temperature is about 43 degrees with a 15 mph wind. Getting wet wouldn’t kill him, but it sure wouldn’t be fun for long.
Sure enough, Caleb clears the creek with surprising grace, part Labrador remember, while actually staying dry. Kylie takes one look at the distance, the rickety launch pad, and says, “Nu-uh! NO WAY!”
Caleb, normally short on empathy, goes off into the woods, now on our side of the stream and comes back with a 3-inch diameter limb that is about 6 feet long. He maneuvers this piece into the water, creating what is now a primitive bridge. Still super sketchy, but now growing in possibility and ever so slightly decreasing it’s sketch factor by a factor of 2, maybe 1 and a half.
Now, the goal no longer appears to be an empathetic desire to help his sister cross the stream, but a perfect opportunity to work on his inner architect and construct a wooden bridge/dam that would make a beaver proud.
Long story short, in 20 minutes, Caleb has found his element. He has a clear vision of what he wants to do, has inspired the other three kids to pitch in and help build the bridge, even the four year old is grabbing sticks.
Spoiler alert, Kylie gets across and the other kids have fun walking back and forth over the bridge, defying the 1 foot of water’s ability to get them slightly damp if they misstep.
“Get to the point, Earnhardt.” Ok, the point is that when Caleb took the path less traveled, he found his element. He found a place and an opportunity that both allowed him to thrive and have complete joy.
My tendency is to inwardly groan when I see him take actions that cause more work for me. Like taking a path that separates him from the rest of us on our “family walk”. Not super proud of my lazy thinking, but I really wanted him to stay with the family so we could go to the destination I had picked out, thereby creating a calm and chill walk in the woods.
But if he had, then I would have missed seeing him come alive by taking the road less traveled.