CEO, Tennessee Electric Cooperative Association
My oldest son just returned home from his first year of college, a fact that has warmed my heart significantly in recent days. Good grades, new friends and his baseball team’s most successful season in over 30 years mean he is happy. And while his time home with his beloved mother and brothers will be interrupted by a month at a collegiate summer league near the coast, I’m glad to have him at the dinner table and in the pew beside me for a while.
But I know his time at home is short-lived, and that is bittersweet. Like many parents, I worry whether I have adequately prepared him for all that life will throw at him. But the funny thing is that life has a way of preparing people all on its own. A recent experience serves as an example of this truth.
Over the years, I have dutifully tried to teach him about cars — not just how to drive but to have a general understanding of how they work. How an internal combustion engine creates power. How to change the oil and check the tire pressure. Yet last week, he reminded me that he does not know how to drive a manual transmission. How did I forget that one?
After his graduation from high school, we matched the money he had saved and helped him buy his own vehicle. He found a great deal for a one-owner, inexpensive, reliable used car. He made it his own, outfitting it to hold his fishing gear and nicknaming it the “Bassmobile.” It became part SUV, part rolling closet for his first time living away from home.
However, a couple of months ago, I got a text message that began with the phrase, “Everything is OK, but …” As my anxiety climbed watching the three little dots that indicated he was typing, his next message finally let me know that someone had collided with him on the highway near his school. The impact was serious enough that the airbags had gone off, but, most importantly, he was safe and unhurt.
A quick photo showed the damage. Not good. And then, in an instant, I realized something. In all the lessons I had given him about cars, had we ever talked about what to do if he had an accident? Nope. Had I lectured him about keeping the insurance card in the vehicle to avoid a ticket? Yep. But had I ever taught him what to do if he ever actually needed the card to, you know, utilize the insurance company and its services? Not so much.
My mental checklists instantly began to form, and I started to think about how he would need me to guide him through the many steps of the process. I dispensed with the text messages and got him on the phone, ready to walk him through it.
When he answered, a calm and mature voice reassured me that he had checked on the other driver, and he was also unhurt. The police were already on-site and writing a report. I heard his polite and respectful exchange with the officer conducting the investigation. Soon after, a tow truck arrived to take his vehicle to the impound lot, and he had already arranged for a friend to come pick him up. He was handling it like a pro — despite my lack of specific preparation in post-car-accident management.
I was proud of him in those moments. And since then, it has helped me realize that despite my own futile efforts to the contrary, it is impossible to predict every event that might occur to us in life. No amount of preparation, however pertinent and important, can plan for every possibility. I can, though, take solace in the fact that my son’s unexpected maturity at the time of a crisis is not a result of my own efforts but is a reflection of the gifts his creator has bestowed upon all of us. And for that, I am grateful.
