What happens when you layer parenthood atop worst-case scenario kind of thinking? Nonstop worry from womb to, well, perhaps forever.
I’m pretty much an expert in the field.
What happens when you layer Boy Scouts atop nonstop worry? The opportunity of personal growth.
I’m getting there.
In fact, last week I was able to sit through an hour-long parent meeting about an upcoming high adventure camp without batting an eye. I wasn’t remotely fazed by warnings of injuries, floods or bears.
Cooper’s already survived all three.
Two summers ago, he and his troop spent a week on the Atchafalaya Swamp. After kayaking for a couple of days, they found respite on a small island. The boys were using various blades to chop bamboo. Cooper, for reasons I still don’t understand, used a machete.
It was a powerful tool. So powerful, in fact, that he sliced straight through bamboo and his shin. He accidentally nicked about an inch of skin.
Because they’re Boy Scouts, his people were prepared. They cleaned the wound and closed it with butterfly strips. The next day, a boat arrived at the island to take Cooper and adult leaders to dry land. Their next stop was the emergency room, to check for possible infection and the need for stitches.
Cooper came home with a story, a scar and a nickname. “Machete,” of course.
The next year, a group of Scouts ventured to Oklahoma for backpacking. Severe weather blew in, creating raging streams. Boys and dads relied on one another, savvy maneuvering and well-placed logs to cross increasingly dangerous water.
They came home with a story, know-how and appreciation for nature’s fickle power.
Last summer that same group spent two weeks together at Philmont Scout Ranch in northern New Mexico. It’s the pinnacle of the Boy Scout experience. Backpacking through the Rockies with everything you need for survival, scaling mountains, sleeping under unadulterated stars. Each day offers an opportunity for a new adventure.
One day the boys stopped hiking for spar pole climbing. (I know, only because I’m a Scout mom, that this includes scaling a tree, stripped of its branches, with the aid of a harness, some rope and blades on your boots.
While one boy is climbing, his buddy is in the charge of the rope on the ground.
Cooper’s buddy was halfway up the pole when a deer shot through the grounds. Then he heard a rustling noise. He turned around to see a black bear, just a few yards away.
Multiple accounts confirm that he sputtered, “B-b-b-bear.” And then the creature waddled away.
Cooper returned home with stories for days, incredible memories and motivation to return.
Way back when Cooper was a tiny first-grade Tiger Cub, I could have never imagined giving thanks for small accidents and near-misses. My job was to shield him from trouble.
Yet every mistake, every change in plans, every weather event, every animal encounter offers the chance to grow stronger – physically, mentally and emotionally.
He’s learned that preparation and teamwork are shields in the face of danger.
Boy Scouts has been just as valuable for me.
I’ve learned to trust my son and the people around him. I’ve realized that denying a child the ability to take risks offers zero protection for adulthood. I’ve been reminded again and again that problem-solving skills are best acquired when you’re actually solving problems.
Cooper has joined a crew for a return trip to Philmont in 2018. I look forward to more stories and his confidence found in succeeding – though I’d be content with no new accident-related nicknames.
Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.