Kids and the 24-Hour Suicide Watch

A few years ago when I was a younger dad of one child, my boss, an older man with two older children remarked to me that until kids reached a certain age, maybe 7 or 8, parents pretty much had to keep their kids under a "24-hour suicide watch". His point was that leaving kids that young unsupervised for a second left the door open for them to do something stupid and harmful to themselves, included but not limited to touching sharp objects, power tools or electrical outlets and eating and/or choking on mothballs, legos or marbles. Of course, this doesn't remotely capture the gamut of ways that young kids can unwittingly get themselves hurt or killed.

I experienced this firsthand this past Sunday when my four-year old daughter inexplicably decided to hop out from her seat in the car and cross the street to throw away some stones she had picked up earlier. Of course, I didn't see this. From my vantage point, I was putting away the baby stroller and I heard the screeching of brakes and my wife screaming bloody murder. Thankfully, a driver who was driving down the street had seen my daughter in time to slam on the brakes, but it was clear that this was a tragedy narrowly averted. My wife and I were simultaneous shaken, furious at my daughter and unspeakably relieved that nothing happened.

It made me mindful of the rest of the conversation that I had with my boss many years ago. Yes, young kids needed to be kept under the "24-hour suicide watch". But the danger doesn't end when the kids celebrate their 8th birthday, or their 12th or 16th for that matter. My boss and I both recollected our own recklessness as adolescents. There were plenty of pyromaniac exercises, impromptu science experiments with flammable and explosive materials, trees and tall heights climbed and other reckless stunts that could have ended as a tragic story in the local section of the newspaper. Those events didn't end that way, obviously. But at some point, you realize that there's a thin line from stupid childhood actions and disaster. Most people can look back at their own experience and acknowledge that they were fortunate.

I think some of this goes back to a previous post I wrote about the stewardship of our children. As difficult as it is, I need to recognize that I have a responsibility to my children to care for them and shepherd them (which might mean admonishing them further not to do stupid things like run across the street), but also recognize that our children are not ultimately our's, but God's (which means that heart-orientation that understands that each and every day with them is precious, and not something that I'm entitled to).

As much as I try to be, I will not always be there to keep her from running across the figurative street. She will grow older, and I will not sitting in the car with her as she considers whether she should drive just a little faster to impress her friends. I may not be with her as she debates at a party whether she should accept and offer of alcohol or drugs. I may not be with her when she's offered a ride home from another person who may or may not be intoxicated. And of course, there are the instances and freak accidents that are not even addressable by any amount of wisdom parents can try to pass along.

So it seems to me that the choice comes down to either being depressed that I can't lock my children in a impregnable box which will shield them from every possible harm. Or I can be obsessed trying to do so (and ultimately despair when I realize it's impossible). Or I can prayerfully do the best I can in equipping my children to make smart choices, and pray that God's providence would shine upon them - and that I would ultimately trust and rest in that same providence spoken about in Jeremiah 29 and Romans 8.

The last options seems most wise, but I acknowledge it's not easy.