Looking is not always seeing

Childhood and the act of parenting are many times filled with countless moments of thrill seeking and adventure. Although reserved by nature, I have been known over the years to join my children as they engage their adventurous side, holding on with all I had, in an attempt to bolster their exploration while simultaneously maintaining a grip on my own sanity ensuring that no outward signs of fear or apprehension were evident. For as we all know, a dad must constantly be on guard, to ensure their provider, protector image remains intact throughout every moment.

I remember when my eldest child, Natalie, was in her teens. She and I would attempt to go on Saturday adventures. One Saturday, we chose to make the short journey to an area widely known as Rocky Falls. The area was a beautiful, National Parks-maintained venue where adventurers could enjoy exploring the beautiful swimming pond, climbing the rocky water fall area or simply enjoy the view. As we ventured forward, the dad in me flowed forth as I felt it was necessary to prepare my child for every possible hazard.

As we drove to the area, my mind couldn’t retreat from the fact that recently, our small city had three young children which had been bitten by venomous snakes. This weighed heavily on my mind, knowing that we would be exploring an outdoor recreation area where it wasn’t uncommon to cross paths with reptiles. As we approached the parking area, Natalie continued voicing her understanding at my repeated warnings.

Departing our vehicle, the excitement grew. In the lead, as any good father would be, I continued to bombard poor Natalie with warnings and guidance about the difficulty seeing snakes and the need to be cognizant of our surroundings. I remember looking down to the pathway describing to her how this area is difficult because the common snakes in our area blend well. As I continued driving the subject home, the words which came out of Natalie’s mouth, as we approached the half- way point on the trail, would become the foundation for a multitude of emotions including fear, embarrassment and concern.

The words Natalie expressed were simply that as we walked, and I spoke about paying attention and looking intently for snakes, I had stepped on a venomous copperhead snake. Natalie and I froze in our positions and I observed the small snake flopping around in pain, confusion and anger. The snake remained alive and directly in the path between my child and me. That darn snake remained in our path, growing ever more angry at the fact that a big ol’ boy just stepped on his head. Both sides were heavily wooded and surely filled with the little guy’s buddies. It was then that I devised the greatest dad plan known to man.

I located a fallen limb. I gently (okay in all reality, more in the fashion of drunk, crazed prehistoric warrior) picked up the snake with the limb, launching him outward to the great wooded unknown.

Once the path between my daughter and I was clear, we went about our adventure. To say it was enjoyable would be a lie. I remember the rest of the short journey consisted of a fake smile, hypervigilant watching and truly anxiety-filled series of moments. Enjoying the trip had fallen along the wayside about the same time as the shadow of the great white sneaker descended upon that little snake minding his own business.

Thinking about the adventure Natalie and I had that day reminded me that throughout life, many times we are committed to look intently at events, people and situations in hopes that the truth in any given situation revels itself. There are times that looking simply doesn’t reveal the true nature and situation which lies before us. Looking simply is the act of directing our eyes in a particular direction while seeing is becoming aware. Our adventure found me looking intently for any dangers but failing to truly be aware of potential dangers. May our days be filled with awareness as well as direction. For therein lies the benefits of a true adventure.

Richard J. Stephens lives in Carter County and is the father of three little ladies ranging in age from 9 to 29.