I RAISED THEM TO LEAVE ME

I read something this morning from Fox News anchor Trace Gallagher about raising daughters that struck a familiar chord.

Gallagher has two grown daughters, and after years of being a father—and making his living talking—he discovered something surprisingly difficult for fathers to learn:

Sometimes our daughters don’t need us to fix anything. They need us to listen.

That sounds simple. It isn’t.

I was raised in a generation where a man’s instinct was to protect. If a woman was struggling, you helped. If something was broken, you fixed it. If someone you loved was in trouble, you stepped between her and the trouble.

There is nothing wrong with that instinct.

But raising two daughters taught me that there is a difference between protecting a daughter and preventing her from becoming strong.

Alyssa is 22. Haley is 20.

Their mother and I divorced six years ago, and at that point I made a decision that changed my life. I quit working full time and became their full-time dad.

I cooked the meals. I drove them where they needed to go. I kept a comfortable and safe home for them. Until they were old enough to drive, Dad was the transportation department, Cook and kitchen staff, home maintenance crew, occasional banker, Cheer Dad and—whether they wanted one or not—resident philosopher.

But there was one job I deliberately tried not to take from them…and it was tough for a man raised in the 50’s and 60’s.

Running their lives.

From an early age, I tried to teach my daughters that they were free to make decisions.

Real decisions.

Not the modern version of childhood independence where a young person gets to choose anything she wants and Mom or Dad quietly removes every unpleasant consequence.

You make the decision.

You get the benefit.

And always, you live with the consequences. Good or Bad.

That was the deal.

It wasn’t because I didn’t care enough to intervene. Quite the opposite. Sometimes watching your child struggle with a decision is harder than simply making it for her.

But eventually I realized something: My job wasn’t to make their decisions easier. My job was to make them capable of making decisions without me.

And they responded.

Both were 4.0 students. Alyssa graduated with honors at 16 and Haley completed over half of her AA degree in High school.

When they were 14, they obtained their food-handler permits. Each announced they would get a job at Chick-fil-A, and did. I provided what they needed. If they wanted extra spending money, they learned how to earn it.

At 16, they got their own cars and another piece of independence arrived.

Little by little, Dad became less necessary.

That’s supposed to happen.

Today Alyssa is 22, married to a good man with a graduate degree, has earned her RN and works full time as a nurse.

Haley is 20. She completed her associate degree at Utah Tech in one year and is now halfway through pilot training, working toward earning her pilot certificate before the end of the year.

I look at those two young women and realize that perhaps the most important thing I gave them wasn’t anything I bought…It was permission to become themselves.

And I had already learned some of these lessons’ decades earlier.

I raised two boys in an entirely different generation. They’re 46 and 44 now.

With them I took a somewhat different approach to education. I told them something along these lines: College isn’t for everybody…But you two are going.

Then I made them an offer that probably sounded pretty good to a couple of young men: I would pay their tuition, room and board until they were 25. I told them to get as many degrees as they could.

They went to college in San Diego. I bought a house for them to live in while they attended school. Both graduated. And, incidentally, Dad got lucky on the house. I sold it about five years later for nearly twice what I paid for it.

Sometimes parenting even has a dividend.

Four children.

Two boys from one generation.

Two girls from another.

Different personalities. Different circumstances. Different challenges. Different worlds, really. Yet I discovered that the fundamentals of raising children haven’t changed very much.

Provide a safe harbor.

Set expectations.

Teach them to work.

Let them make decisions.

Let consequences teach lessons that Dad cannot.

Listen more than you lecture.

Be there when they fall.

Help them back up when they genuinely need a hand—but don’t rob them of the satisfaction of discovering that they can stand on their own.

Gallagher remembered his own mother refusing to quit football for him when he was eight. If he wanted to quit, she told him he would have to go tell the coach himself. Gallagher eventually stayed and played through college. His conclusion today is that children need opportunities to fight their own battles.

I understand exactly what he means.

One of the hardest transitions in fatherhood is realizing that the little girl you once protected from the world eventually has to walk into that world without holding your hand.

So you gradually loosen your grip.

You don’t stop being Dad.

You become a different kind of Dad.

Less director, more counselor. Less lecturer, more listener. Less rescuer, more safe harbor.

You remain close enough that they know exactly where home is, but far enough away that they discover how capable they really are.

And then comes the great surprise of fatherhood.

After spending decades preparing your children to live without you, you discover that they still want you in their lives. Not because they need you to make their decisions.

Because they love you.

Today my children are grown or nearly grown. They are educated. They work. They make their own decisions. They have succeeded, stumbled, learned, loved and built lives that belong to them.

And now there are grandchildren.

That may be the finest dividend of all.

I have had the remarkable privilege of raising children across two different generations, and the world around them changed enormously between the first child and the last.

Technology changed.

Schools changed.

Culture changed.

Parenting fashions certainly changed.

But I don’t think the basic assignment did.

Give your children roots strong enough to know where they came from, responsibility enough to discover who they are, and wings strong enough that one day they don’t need you to fly.

Then stand on the ground, watch them climb—and thank God you were given the privilege of being their father.

I did my best to raise four independent human beings.

Somewhere along the way, they raised a very happy father.

And today, a very blessed grandfather.