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 tyradamm@gmail.com.
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