Raising Kids With Character

The ability to accept responsibility

In 1965 the Catholic philosopher, Dietrich von Hildebrand, wrote a book called The Art of Living which outlined seven cardinal virtues necessary to living a grounded life. In 1994 his wife, Alice von Hildebrand, added an eighth chapter bringing the total of cardinal virtues up to eight.

These virtues, although presented in a spiritual way, are good virtues that can guide our children through life with confidence in a world in which assured security seems to be less and less probable. These short summaries of the von Hildebrand’s wonderful chapters don’t do them intellectual justice, however if applied, I know will change the lives of you and your children.

Virtue number 6: The ability to accept responsibility

The life of the man who is aware of his responsibility bears the seal of wakefulness, of earnestness instead of frivolity, of manliness instead of childishness. ~ Dietrich von Hildebrand, The Art of Living

I was fortunate to grow up on a farm with space enough to play, and toys to occupy those rare moments when my imagination failed me. Among those toys was an ancient John Deere snowmobile, of whose vintage I can no longer remember. What I do remember however, is that protruding from the non-aerodynamic hood was a metal block which made accessing the sparkplugs more manageable. (Picture a square horn on the square forehead of a rhino.) To me, it was perfect, as it made the machine into a weapon.

One winter day my sister and her friend were out in the bush and some distance from the farmyard when I drove by on the snowmobile. My sister waved me over and proceeded to hijack my sled, insisting that she drive. There is only so much room on a snowmobile and with the prime seating taken by Mary and Janice, I was relegated to standing on the rear bar which we used as a hitch to pull tubes. It was a poor perch. I fell off. And they didn’t stop.

When I got back to the farmyard, I was seething. They had abandoned the snowmobile for tubing down the river bank so I reassumed my seat and made for the top of the hill. They were at the bottom merely sitting on the tubes they had taken down, talking, as girls do. Still nursing my hurt pride (accompanied by a sore backside), I decided to teach them a lesson. My goal was to drive at them, scare them, and the swerve at the last minute.

My goal, however, had two fatal flaws.

First of all, they knew I wasn’t going to drive them over so they probably wouldn’t actually feel fear, and would have experienced an emotion somewhat more akin to fierce anger. Second, you can’t quickly swerve with a junky old snowmobile on hard-packed snow. (Or perhaps any snowmobile for that matter.)

As a result of my youthful temper, I didn’t scare them, but neither did I swerve, rather I hit the edge of the old tractor tire that Janice was sitting on at a pretty good speed, and she fell back onto the square rhino horn protruding from the hood of my sled. Janice immediately rolled onto her stomach holding the back of her head. It’s astonishing how fast a hot temper can turn to sick dread. I knew this was bad. And I knew it was worse when a small trickle of blood dripped through her hair on the snow.

Mary, casting a look that could kill, helped her friend up and they started walking back to the house together. At this point I had a choice to make. I could jump on the snowmobile and drive as far as it would take me on whatever gas I had left. Perhaps I could walk the rest of the way to the US-Canada border and make a run for it. On the other hand, I could jump on the sled and beat Janice and Mary home so I could at least tell my dad what had happened before they arrived. I decided on plan B.

There is no excuse for bad behaviour. None. But, human as we are, bad behaviour seems to follow like a shadow on a sunny day. The thing about bad behaviour is that it opens up a world of resolution and restoration; if we learn to take responsibility for our actions. I took responsibility that day. I didn’t want to, but not because I wanted to avoid consequences (which there were), but because I genuinely felt badly about hitting Janice with the snowmobile.

We live in a world of blame. No one takes responsibility for their actions. Children blame their parents. Parents blame culture. Ironically, culture is simply a collective attitude which is a reflection of us! Education is to blame. Politicians are to blame. The media is to blame.

If only someone would just stand up and say, “I did it! I’m to blame! Here I am, ready to accept the consequences and take whatever steps are necessary to reconcile myself to my victim.”

Do you know what a statement like that is a reflection of? Inner strength. Inner security. There is tremendous inner peace that comes from knowing I have done what I can to make things right.

Do you know who is actually weak? It’s not the actual victim, it is the perpetrator who plays the victim. So in every crime we have two victims now? Perhaps I was the victim then. I may have been driving the snowmobile that day, but if my sister hadn’t left me in the woods, I wouldn’t have been mad! If the snow hadn’t been so hard packed I might have swerved! If Janice and Mary would have moved I wouldn’t have hit them! If John Deere had made a better snowmobile.

We need to teach our kids that, regardless of extenuating factors, if they had a role in an incident, crime, or sin, they are responsible for their actions.

Parents, you are also responsible for your actions. But here’s the astonishing thing: if we deal with our bad behaviour with integrity, honesty, and humility, a world of hurt can be healed, even in the heart of a child. But if apologies are above you, if your child is just too sensitive, or you are just too busy to make every little wrong right, then you are living a poor example of the vital virtue of taking responsibility. Your children won’t likely go where they are not led.

Remember, it’s never too late to start.