Lessons
Do you ever find yourself sitting quietly and remembering some of the little things your parents told you when you were a kid? Not the big speeches or serious conversations. I am talking about those simple, everyday instructions we probably heard hundreds of times growing up.
“Put that back where you found it.”
“Don’t spend everything you have.”
“Finish what you start.”
“Treat people the way you want to be treated.”
“Tell the truth.”
“Don’t go to bed angry.”
“Help somebody when you can.”
“If you make a mess, clean it up.”
“Make your bed.”
And the list goes on.
Back then, we probably did not think there was anything profound about those words. In fact, depending on how many times we had heard them, they might have sounded more like nagging than wisdom. But something interesting happens as we get older.
Life starts explaining what our parents meant. The experiences we have, the mistakes we make, the people we love, the people who disappoint us, the responsibilities we take on and the challenges we overcome somehow give new meaning to those simple childhood instructions.
When we were young, we heard the instruction. When we get older, we understand the principle.
“Put things back where you found them” was about responsibility.
“Save some for later” was about preparing for tomorrow.
“Finish what you start” was about perseverance.
“Say you’re sorry” was about humility.
“Don’t stay angry” was about forgiveness.
“Help somebody when you can” was about kindness and empathy.
“If you make a mess, clean it up” was about accountability.
And “make your bed” was about discipline, consistency and establishing good routines.
Maybe that is one of the quiet gifts of getting older. Life eventually gives us enough experience to understand lessons that were too simple—or perhaps too profound—for us to fully appreciate as children.
One particular lesson has stayed with me for decades. When I was growing up, one of my dad’s yearly yard projects was having a truckload of mulch delivered to our house. Dad and I would spend the day spreading it around the trees and flower beds in the front and back yards. I started helping him when I was pretty young.
It was not easy work, especially on a hot day. But I enjoyed working in the yard with my father. Maybe that is one reason I still enjoy yard work today. There is something about being outside, working with your hands and seeing the results of your effort that I find satisfying.
One day, I filled my wheelbarrow with mulch. Once I had it piled high, I grabbed the handles and struggled to turn that heavy wheelbarrow toward the next flower bed. Dad watched me wrestling with it.
Then he gave me one simple piece of advice: “Son, turn it toward where you’re going before you load it.”
Well, why didn’t I think of that? The next time, I positioned the empty wheelbarrow in the direction I wanted to go before filling it. Suddenly, the job was much easier. At the time, I thought Dad was simply teaching me the right way to use a wheelbarrow. Decades later, I realize he may have taught me something about life.
Think about it. Imagine filling a wheelbarrow with heavy soil, rocks or mulch and then realizing it is pointed in the wrong direction. You can still turn it, but now you are fighting against all that weight. What would have been easy if the wheelbarrow was empty becomes much harder once it is full.
Life can work much the same way. As we move through life, we gradually fill our own wheelbarrows—with responsibilities, commitments, possessions, careers, relationships, habits, expectations, and dreams. None of those things are necessarily bad. Many of them are wonderful. But they all have weight. And the more weight we accumulate, the harder it can become to change direction. That is why it is worth occasionally asking ourselves:
Where am I actually trying to go?
What matters most to me?
What are my values?
What kind of person do I want to become?
What kind of life am I trying to build?
When we have some sense of direction, we can be more intentional about what we put into our wheelbarrow. Without that direction, we can spend years loading it only to eventually look up and realize: This is not where I wanted to go. Weight Creates Momentum. Many of life’s biggest commitments begin as seemingly small decisions.
A job becomes a career.
A purchase becomes debt.
A habit becomes a lifestyle.
A relationship becomes a major commitment.
One responsibility leads to another.
Eventually, our wheelbarrow gets pretty heavy.
That is one reason changing direction later in life can require courage. It is not necessarily because we have lost our ability to change. We simply have more weight to turn.
But here is something else the wheelbarrow taught me: Heavy does not mean impossible. Sometimes we discover that we are headed in the wrong direction after we have already loaded the wheelbarrow. We can still turn it. We may have to work harder. We may have to unload a few things. We may need to let go of something we once thought we needed. We may even need someone to help us. But we can turn.
There is no rule saying that because you have traveled a long way in one direction, you have to keep going that way forever.
Also remember that a full wheelbarrow is not necessarily a successful Life. We often measure success by how much we have accumulated—money, possessions, accomplishments, responsibilities, titles, or recognition. But a wheelbarrow can be completely full and still be headed in the wrong direction. So perhaps the better question is not: “How much am I carrying?” Maybe it is: “Is what I’m carrying helping me get where I actually want to go?”
Some things deserve a place in our wheelbarrow: love, family, friendship, purpose, responsibility, integrity, kindness, faith, experiences, and memories.
Other things may have been riding around with us for far too long—resentment, regret, anger, jealousy, addictions, old grudges, other people’s expectations, and mistakes we refuse to forgive ourselves for. Sometimes moving forward is not about becoming strong enough to carry more. Sometimes it is about finally deciding what we can put down.
Now I Get It. The older I get, the more I think about those little lessons my parents taught me. Our parents may no longer be standing beside us giving those instructions, but somehow their voices stay with us.
Then one day we are working in the yard, making a difficult decision, dealing with another person, struggling through a challenging season of life, or simply sitting quietly and reflecting—and one of those little sayings comes back.
And we smile. Maybe our parents were not just teaching us how to do chores, behave ourselves or get through childhood. Perhaps in hundreds of ordinary moments—making our beds, cleaning up our messes, saving a few dollars, apologizing when we were wrong, finishing a job we wanted to quit, helping someone who needed us or turning a wheelbarrow before filling it—they were quietly preparing us for adulthood.
They were teaching us how to be responsible. How to persevere. How to forgive. How to prepare. How to care for other people. How to make good choices. And ultimately, how to carry the weight of life.
Dad probably was not thinking about any of that when he saw a little boy struggling with a wheelbarrow full of mulch.
He simply said: “Son, turn it toward where you’re going before you load it.”
It took him only a few seconds to teach me.
It has taken me a lifetime to understand it.
And maybe that is the beautiful thing about those little lessons our parents gave us.
So here is something to think about: What is one simple lesson your parents taught you as a child that you did not fully appreciate until you became an adult?
Maybe it was something they said. Maybe it was something they made you do. Or maybe it was simply something you watched them do over and over again. Whatever it was, take a moment and think about it.
You may discover that something you once considered a simple childhood lesson has quietly been guiding you for most of your life. And if you are fortunate enough to still have that parent in your life, maybe give them a call and tell them:
“You know that thing you used to tell me when I was a kid? I finally understand.”
Until our next chat,
Take care of yourself and each other!
Chip
