Always Watching

I took some of my younger kids to the store just before Valentine’s day this year so they could pick out packs of cards to give to their friends at a party the following day. If you have ever been responsible for getting a group of excited kids that love to run and play through a busy parking lot, you will know it demands a high level of awareness. Small kids being three to four feet tall can go unnoticed by high SUVs and trucks, especially when the drivers are aggressively trying to get that space just a few spots closer, so they can save tens of seconds on the walk from the car to the store.

Inside, it actually was a lot of fun watching everyone pick out cards they felt best represented them. We checked out and headed back out into the parking lot.

All of my kids were reading or just looking at the boxes of Valentines while walking. No cars were around, but I took this as a teaching moment. “Hey, we're in a parking lot. You can’t be aware of cars if you’re looking at your boxes while you walk,” I said, thinking I was helping to develop a way of thinking that may save them from being an adult that walks slowly down the perfect center of the lane in a parking lot, playing on their phone and oblivious to the line of cars cruising barely above idle behind them.

My son shot back first with a list of examples of the adults in his life looking at their phones while doing all sorts of activities, driving included. Flawless logic.

“Yeah, you’re going to see that a lot. You will always see people doing things you’ve been told aren’t a good idea, and they do it anyway. Many will seem fine, even carefree, and have fun while doing it. You may never see anything bad happen to them.”

“Then why does anyone say that’s stuff bad if nothing happens to them?” he asked.

“It does. It just may be a while. In fact, the more time that goes by before things get rough, the more confident someone can feel doing something that’s not good for them, making it even worse when it catches up. You’ve really got to pay attention to someone for a long time to see. We don’t do that often.”

“Well, how do you know that what other people are doing is good if you have to watch them for so long to find out?”

“That’s a really good question. Part of it is that we can learn from generations before us, like grandma and grandpa. People who have done things for a very long time and watched others do things for a long time pass on what they have learned.”

“Okay.”

 “Another part is that we do know some stuff. Do you have to watch anyone to know that if you are looking at a phone while you’re driving instead of the road you could get in a wreck?”

“No,” he answered, laughing.

“Could you get in a wreck that’s so bad that you get hurt in a way you don’t get all the way better, like losing a limb or even dying?”

“Yeah,” he answered, not laughing.

“Or hurt someone else?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you see people on the road doing that all of the time anyway,”

“Yeah,” he said, with an expression of realization in his tone.

“But why do people do that then?”

“Just because we know something doesn’t mean that we pay attention to that. And they see lots of other people doing it just as often as you do. That makes it feel normal.”

“How else do we know if something is bad?”

“Have you ever heard a voice in you telling you something is a bad idea?”

“Yes.”

“The more you pause and listen to that voice, the clearer it gets. You have an inner guide.”

We had a good talk about the idea. I have learned to explain things thoroughly and give real answers even when someone is very young. I have explained things offhand, not thinking that very much would be retained, and find out a year later that it was, in fact, carefully considered and filed away. But I also know that those teaching moments are just moments. The real work is much more difficult.

Deep teaching doesn’t happen in moments. It’s happening all the time. This can be both terrifying and empowering.

We like to think we teach a lesson and then go about our lives. When we are consciously giving a lesson, all we are really doing is clarifying why we do things the way we do or giving some depth and context to how we live. Or we go on a hypocritical rant telling others to do things we don’t practice. This is often much more transparent than we would like to believe.

Everything I do is teaching. Who I am is teaching. We are teaching even when no one seems to be paying attention. If I want someone to absorb a lesson on a deep level, I have to actively live whatever I am trying to teach. I have to put the phone safely away while driving. This is true even when no one else is around. I have found this to be undeniable. Habits that I have never demonstrated in front of my kids still get picked up. Spirits talk to spirits, and in a family, they are little chatterboxes.

The demonstration is much more powerful than a lecture, and that’s easy to agree with. The part that is challenging is the realization that we are always, always demonstrating. We can’t turn it on or off. Who we are and what we do bleeds through on a level we couldn’t teach intentionally if we wanted to.

Try this experiment. Think of something one of your parents did. Something you never wanted to emulate and told yourself you would never repeat. Now think about how much work it has taken to override that same attribute that is so deeply ingrained that it seems to be almost on the level of instinct.

There is, however, a very positive side to this. All the good is being given at a deep level as well. But I’m not perfect! I’ve made so many mistakes! These are usually the first thoughts upon realizing this. Yes, no one is. But the work I do to grow and improve with all my imperfections. The effort I put into correcting things as I become aware of them. Those skills are passed along as well.

If I were perfect, I would not be able to teach by example how to work through personal and life difficulties. These tools turn out to be the most useful after all.