At the end of every day, I feel like a failure. A failed parent, that is.
Sunday evening is traditionally a time of heightened stress, as the new working week draws near.
But the stress I’m feeling right now strikes every evening at about this time. It’s the stress of a dad worried about his son.
I doubt I’m alone in this. Raising teenagers is nearly universally acknowledged to be seriously challenging.
Though that doesn’t feel like much consolation, for I feel as isolated as I feel powerless.
The wise would say, “He is teaching you patience.” Perhaps I could look at it that way.
Or we could say, “He is teaching me how to pray,” for certainly these stresses have resulted in much supplication.
It could be that it’s one big learning experience, in which I’m supposed to come out stronger and more resilient.
On the other hand, it could equally be yet another test which might just break me.
I honestly don’t know which track I am on right now, other than it being one of increasing stress.
I pray I do not fail in this great task.
Last modified: 21 July 2024
