The Stair Rail
As most stairs do, we have a stair rail leading to our basement. When my boys were little, it was the safety net they needed to gently guide themselves into new territory. As they got older, it became the balance beam/monkey bars/jungle gym they’d always dreamed of. It also became a quarterly item on my repair list for our handyman. God love him.
Our handyman is a soft voiced, gentle, grandfatherly figure who loves a good conversation and an occasional wood working challenge, which our family eagerly provides. He is kind, attentive, and above all patient, which obviously works in our favor because he’s been called to fix our stair rail three times…THREE!! And each time, he figures out a way to make it stronger and more secure for our boys to abuse, which only encourages them to prove they’re no quitters. It’s a vicious cycle.
The first time, when one of the metal brackets broke, causing the rail to pierce the wall it was attached to, he patched up the wall, bought new brackets and reattached everything. This fix lasted maybe 2 months, and he returned with even bigger and better tools. This time, he took the entire rail off, screwed a board behind, bought THREE HEAVY DUTY brackets, and reattached the rail. When he left, he confidently said “those boys don’t stand a chance against those heavy duty brackets”. Three months later, I sheepishly called him once again to fix one of those brackets, as it had snapped in half after an Olympic worthy dismount by our youngest. Snapped. In. Half. This project was quickly becoming a bur in his saddle. Not to be defeated, he replaced the broken bracket, reattached the rail, and then studied the whole contraption like a fine work of art. Finally, he called me downstairs and declared “I know what the problem is” and then proceeded to show me how the stair rail curved at the end where it entered the basement, which in his mind “let’s your boys swing around the corner like a monkey at full speed”. So, he cut off the curved end. It’s been two days, so time will tell if this is the final fix.
So, why do I share this ridiculous story, other than to complain that this stupid stair rail has been the bane of my existence for far too long? Because I’ve realized that all of these fixes - the secure brackets, the strong screws, the stable board, and the “dangerous” curve at the end - represent perfectly what parenting is all about. We spend years making sure our kids our safe and secure, guarding them from dangerous situations, protecting them from the instability of the world. And guess what? They still find a way to break through it all, shattering our strongest words of caution and breaking our most secure connections. Because they’re kids, and part of growing up is testing all of the limits the world has put in place. And, every time, we come back with bigger and better tools, confident that THIS time will be the one that works, that shows them how dangerous and insecure and unstable the world can be. And they continue to prove us wrong…every single time. It’s a vicious cycle.
This is where the real work comes in. Because, not matter what they’ve broken, manipulated, shattered…we always come back with bigger and better tools, ready to patch up whatever has been destroyed. And we worry that someday, they are going to get hurt - physically, mentally, emotionally - and we want so badly to prevent this from happening. But we can’t, so we watch and wait, tools in hand, ready to fix whatever happens next. This is how we help, it’s how we love our people hard, it’s how we show that no matter what happens, we’ll be there to pick up the pieces, patch up the holes, and rebuild something even stronger. And in the meantime, our kids are learning what it means to be strong, courageous, secure human beings who are loved unconditionally.
So, I’ll keep fixing all that has broken, bringing bigger boards, stronger screws and heavy duty brackets. I’ll glue and patch and nail until what has shattered is rebuilt stronger than before. And I’ll send my boys back out into the world (or down the stair rail, as the case may be) until they need me again.
