Give them a Fish or Teach them to Fish?

I'm in the midst of raising a teenager, my oldest. It's an interesting season of life as a mother, to say the least. The 'magic number' is coming up next December and I can't help but feel a bit anxious. That comes from both feeling elated that he'll graduate high school and enter the Airforce Academy (hopefully) and feeling worried that I might not have given him all the tools he'll need for life....I can hear my father saying right now 'baby, life is hard. But it's harder if you're stupid.' I used to think that was the dumbest thing a parent could ever say! I chuckle at that now because I GET IT! As a mother it's been difficult to balance the giving with the teaching. We're made to be more compassionate and loving than our counterparts as well as more patient. (although I didn't get much of that) Some of the best times in my motherhood have been where I gave and gave and gave, all to feel little arms wrapped around my neck and wet snotty kisses on my lips. It just makes me feel so needed, so loved, so adored, so admired. There's nothing like it, snot and all. Some of the times in motherhood I've spent teaching, or leading, or disciplining. Most of the time I didn't get the desired hug and kiss, it was an evil glare or a stomping off, then the slamming of the door or the roll of the eyes. (that's always my favorite) Not the warm and fuzzy feeling I covet. I remember going fishing with my dad as a young girl. My dad was an 'old school' fisherman. You know...get up at 3 am, drive up to the mountains, hike 4 miles to the right spot (in the rain!), tread through a freezing cold creek (I got to ride piggy back sometimes) and then finally find the right spot. It's only 6am at this point.(ugh!) Then, dad would say you have to be quiet or you'll scare the fish. No talking! (that's tough for a girl!) He showed me how to bait my line (I hated how the worm felt when I stuck the hook through it, it got all stiff!), cast my line and then he taught me to wait. (without talking) I remember being ecstatic when the pole would bow and I'd reel it in so fast! Dad would come over and talk me through taking the fish off the pole, all by myself. First, get your hand kinda sandy (helps with the grip), grasp the fish here, with your other hand gently guide the hook out trying not to pull and make it bleed. Even if I had to throw the fish back it was exciting! Until.....he made me clean my own fish! He taught me that you have to make a slow cut up the belly, gently pry out the 'guts' and careful not to squeeze the bladder. I remember using my thumb to go up the spine of the fish and watching all that 'goo' fly out. I cut the head off and fed the heads and guts to the racoons outside. (they're cute!) We cooked them together and ate them together. My dad was so proud! He gave of his time and his heart, he showed love and compassion (hence the piggy back ride and the giggles when I'd squeel over the worm). He taught me the importance of patience, hardwork, determination and the value of being quiet. All by fishing.

So in my quest for finding balance in raising a teenager, and as my other 3 children grow into these awe-some creatures, I can always rely on good old dad. His 3am fishing expeditions provided the balance between giving and teaching, and the funny thing is...I didn't roll my eyes. I just wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek with my cold, snotty nose pressed against his face. Heaven.

I'm going fishing with my kids......