Condemnation is a word that very few of us spend any time
thinking about, however, it is an action that we are all guilty of acting upon,
often without even realizing it. This
has been on my mind a lot lately, so I decided to look it up!
Con-dem-na-tion
(noun): The expression of very strong
disapproval. The action of condemning
someone to a punishment, sentencing.
To start… I know, I really should find a more entertaining
hobby, but seriously – we all do it! I’d
love to tell you that I am profound enough to avoid this faux pas, but even while
constant thinking about it, these condemnations appear in my head just like the
rest of the world.
If it is natural behavior, why fight it?? Why? because we can. Because as human beings we have the ability
to be compassionate, empathetic and understanding. Because, we all deserve the opportunity to
experience life in our time, and amazingly, though we are often sharing the
same space and experiences with those around us, we haven’t all walked the same
paths to get there.
A Facebook page that I follow, Your Family LLC, recently posted about a
similar concept. These gals are great,
and often post about the same themes and ideas that I have running through my
head! You’ve probably all seen the 100
Days of Happiness concept that people have been posting about… this one is just a little bit different. They are promoting 100 Days of No Judgment. Kudos
to you guys for really working for it! As
a community, there is no better lesson that we can teach our kids than
acceptance, and the hardest part about teaching these skills is that they are
often learned through watching and mimicking the adults that they interact with
on a daily basis.
I never knew how hard it would be to be a good parent. (Anyone who says it’s a piece of cake is
either lying, cheating… or simply not trying! Seriously!)
In my most recent “read” The Dale Carnegie Leadership Mastery Course, I
came across the story, “Father Forgets,” written by W. Livingston Larned many,
many decades ago. I have heard this
story before, but it is one that calls for frequent repetition. Truly, I should read this every morning
before my daughter gets out of bed… as I know it would make me a better
parent and human being.
Today I will leave you with the story below, a challenge
and a promise. Instead of condemning
people, let’s try to understand them.
Let’s keep ourselves honest and continue to try to figure out why it is that
people do what they do. It’s a lot
more profitable and intriguing than criticism; plus this thought process breeds
sympathy, tolerance and kindness, all things we can use more of in our world.
Over the next ten days, I will put into action
the No Judgment policy and will follow up and let you know how I make out! Anyone willing to do the same, I’d love to
hear from you!
Enjoy.
Father Forgets
By W. Livingston Larned
Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep,
one little paw crumpled under your cheek and
the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead.
I have stolen into your room alone.
Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you.
I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.
At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, ‘Goodbye, Daddy!’ and I frowned, and said in reply, ‘Hold your shoulders back!’
Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your friends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful!
Imagine that, son, from a father! Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door.
‘What is it you want?’ I snapped. You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.
Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to you for being a boy.
It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years. And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of yours was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son.
I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed! It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come.
I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: ‘He is nothing but a boy – a little boy!’ I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms,
your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.
