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The Lesson
of the Geese
by
Richard and Linda Eyre
Editor's
Note: Richard and Linda, in many of their recent parenting lectures
have been emphasizing the importance of following our best natural
instincts as parents. Along those lines, they present several "natural
lessons from nature." One of these is "The Lesson of the Geese."
The Eyres welcome direct feedback on their website, valuesparenting.com.
Near the small
town in Idaho where I (Linda) grew up, there is a bird refuge frequented
in the warmer months by Canadian Geese. I first remember being aware
of the big birds each fall when I would hear their distant honking
and look up to see their perfect V formations high above me, heading
south. I learned from biology lectures and text books that in their
yearly migration they fly high enough to find the jet streams, that
they fly in a V formation to cut wind resistence, taking turns in
the taxing position at the front of the V, and that they can fly
thousands of miles without coming down. I also learned that by some
kind of inner biological radar or global positioning, they return
in the spring to the precise spot from which they left, the spot
where they were born, their home.
A couple of
times in the early spring, I think I saw the actual moment when
some of the geese returned to our bird refuge. They swooped in looking
exhausted but delighted to be home, landing smoothly on the water
and noisily and joyously paddling around as though they were opening
a house that had been closed for the winter.
As much as
I enjoyed those early spring and late fall glimpses of migration,
it was the later spring that became my favorite time for geese watching.
When one of my parents drove me through the marsh lands, we would
see the fluffy, brown babies paddling along in a line behind their
mothers, with father always swimming close by in watchful protection.
If it was windy or stormy, the mother would slow down and look back
as if counting and keeping track, and the father would move into
closer formation to help any that might stray. When the babies climbed
out onto a steep bank, both mom and dad would help boost them up.
When I got
older, further research taught me that Canadian Geese parents not
only work together, they stay together, mating for life
and living as long as sixty or seventy years. They stay with their
children too, until they are grown, their love illustrated by their
habits.
One day as
we drove through the marsh we saw a mature female who at first we
thought was hurt. She was making a lot of noise and swimming frantically
and erratically. As we watched, we realized that she had lost one
of her babies. She had the others grouped together on a bank and
she would check on them and then dart off into the various passages
through the marsh grass, looking for the missing one. We thought
her loud, frequent honks were calls for the lost chick, but she
looked up as she called and we realized she was calling for her
mate. He swooped in a moment or two later and together they found
the missing chick, and then hovered over it until it was re-integrated
into the family. Whatever it was that he'd been doing, the dad left
it immediately when his family needed him. After that minor goose-family
crisis, both parents swam busily from chick to chick, nuzzling and
clucking to them incessantly as if to reassure them beyond doubt
that they would be cared for and never lost.
I recently
read of a similar experience with a family of geese trying to cross
a road. A driver came upon a father goose who had walked to the
middle of the road, turned to face potential oncoming traffic, and
spread his wings wide like a crossing guard. Then the mother and
children began to cross. The driver, who had pulled to a stop, said
she could see that the father goose was not watching her car but
actually looking into her eyes to see if she was going to move toward
them. When he was sure she was not, he left his sentinel position
to hurry the rest of the struggling kids across the road.
Maybe it was
because of the simplicity and beauty of that childhood setting and
the memories I have there, but I came to love those Canadian Geese
and to be awed by how far they could travel and yet always come
home. To me they came to represent the commitment of families -
parents who do their best to stay together, who are always there
for their children, who help each other and who are predictably
where they are supposed to be.
The lesson of
the geese is commitment and priority. Commitment by married spouses
to each other. Deep, obvious commitment of parents to children.
And the clear and consistent prioritizing of children and family
above all other priorities.
The trust and
confidence that we all want for our children comes naturally and
directly from the open and obvious commitment of parents and from
children seeing and trusting that commitment - knowing they are
our first priority and that nothing matters as much to us as they
do. Once children feel this, deeply and truly feel it, they will
forgive us for our mistakes, for our tempers, for our inconsistencies,
for all our inadequacies as parents.
But we need
to learn not to assume they know of our commitment and of their
priority. Children's natural tendencies are often toward insecurity
rather than security and toward doubt and guilt rather than toward
confidence. We need to tell them more often of our total commitment
and of how much more important they are to us than anything else.
Like the geese,
we must always come home.
Like the geese,
we must put our children first.
Like the geese,
we must let them know by what we say and what we do that they are
our highest priority and tell them often of our commitment
to them.
Like the geese
we must understand that commitment is the most complete expression
of love.
Like the geese,
we must frequently reassure our children of our love and loyalty
to them.
Like the geese,
if we are married, we must let our commitment to each other be obvious,
letting our children see our affection and see us talking together
about them and working together for them. Single parents can devote
all their family commitment to their children.
Like the geese,
we must relish home and enjoy being there more than any other place.
Learn the lesson
of the geese. Make your commitment obvious and let your spouse and
your children bask in the security it will give them. Here are some
ideas tried by other families. You'll notice that each of these
"snapshots" begin with the word "one," suggesting that one
parent can make a difference; that if one family can
do it, so you can; that each family is unique and individual
and what worked for one family might not work for you,
but might stimulate a related idea for your one family.
A picture is worth a thousand words, and some of these little
"snapshots" may give you ideas or inspire you to try similar things.
Don't try them all! Just pick things that appeal to you or that
you feel would "work" with your situation. Let them prompt your
own ideas. The point is to show how many ways there are to work
on and implement each lesson.
One family
with elementary-school-age children, in a simple effort to make
commitment more obvious and constant, decided together on something
called "commitment hugs." It was a simple, two-part idea: 1. That
they would give each other more physical hugs (the goal was at least
one per day from each to each) and 2. That the unspoken message
of each hug (to be consciously thought of every time a hug was given
or received) was, "I am committed to you as my highest priority.
You matter to me more than anything else and I love you." They even
had a calligrapher put the commitment hug message on a plaque which
they hung in their kitchen.
One dad who's
work required a lot of travel decided to call his two adolescent
daughters every single evening that he was gone to ask about their
day and to tell them he was thinking of them and that they were
more important to him than his work - in fact, that the reason
for work was to support them and their mother.
One father,
in the middle of some important projects at his office, was feeling
guilty for getting home late most nights, after his seven-year-old
daughter was already in bed. He explained to the girl that the late
nights wouldn't last too long and that in the meantime she could
have a secret password to call him. The password was "number one"
because she was the most important person to him. She knew his office
number and when she called, she was to just say, "number one," and
the secretary would either find her dad right then or put her on
the message list as the number one or very first person her dad
would call back.
One couple
decided to try to reserve Monday nights for some kind of family
activity with their three small children, even if it was just a
quick trip to the ice cream store. They liked to say (to their kids,
as often as possible), "first weeknight for the first priority,"
and they tried to let the children decide where to go and what to
do.
They also taught
their four and six year olds the words "commitment" (defined as
a promise) and "priority " (defined as a very important thing).
The kids felt cool using "big words," sometimes in unique ways like,
"But mom, that candy bar is a priority and you committed I could
have it."
One busy working
mom just made a rule for herself that she wouldn't fill in her daily
"to do" list until she had asked herself, "What do my children need
today?"
One family
decided to quit saying goodbye on the phone or when someone left
for work or school. Instead, they just said, "Love you."
One couple
officially "remarried" - holding a second ceremony later in their
lives to repeat and re-emphasize their marriage vows and commitments
to each other and to their children. They wrote out "commitment
documents" to each other (which they also shared with the children).
Part of the husband's read like this:
"I hereby recommit
myself, my resources, my gifts, and my soul to you as my highest
priority, as my wife, and as the only romantic love of my life.
While I am far from perfect as a husband, there are many things
you can absolutely and always count on from me. One is that I will
put you and your interests first in every choice or decision I face.
Two is that I will always be completely honest with you and have
no secrets from you. Third is that I will be a full partner with
you in the raising of our children. Fourth is that I will never
let other priorities (work, sports, etc.) get ahead of you and the
kids in my mind or cause me to do anything that would damage or
impact negatively on you or on your happiness. Fifth is that I will
remember and keep our marriage vows. . . ."
As a final
method for each lesson, consider simply reading the abbreviated
animal story lesson to your child while he or she looks at the illustration.
The particular
methods we use to show our commitment - to remind ourselves and
our families that they are our priorities - are not as important
as the simple fact that we do it, and do it often. Children
who feel our commitment will, as they grow up, talk to us more,
listen to us more, and trust us more. The constant re-establishment
of commitment is the lesson that creates the atmosphere and the
environment where the other eight lessons have the best chance of
flourishing.
Why let spouses
and children assume our love when it's so easy to tell
them? Why withhold the nourishment and security that we can give
through the simple expression of our commitment?
Some will say,
"Well, words are cheap," or "It's no good to talk the talk if you
don't walk the walk," and they are right. But the point is that
our words and our talk can remind us to walk like we talk and to
live like we commit. Finding frequent ways to express our commitments
is what keeps us from gradually forgetting or straying from those
commitments.
Read the next
article "The Lesson of the Crabs:
Praise, Support, and Positive Affirmation"
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