Remember what it was like to be 16 and learning to drive? The thrill of getting behind the wheel. Occupying the power seat in the vehicle and looking through the windshield like you never have before. It probably conjures up memories of burgeoning independence, freedom, and unbridled exhilaration.
Learning how to drive is a milestone in life—a game changer. Few things can match getting your driver’s license when you are 16. As a mom, I couldn’t have imagined how one afternoon in specific, being in the car with my son would be one of the greatest teaching moments of my life. It was a day that would strengthen our mother-son bond and provide us both a message of inspiration on how to bounce back from adversity.
Learning how to drive is complicated enough at 16, but when a standard transmission is a part of the mix it is even harder. Jordan and I had spent months mastering the clutch and stick shift. Many, many times my little car began to sputter and shake before finally coming to a stall when the delicate balance between clutch and gas was out of sync. With sheer determination, Jordan continued honing his skills until the sputters, shakes, and stalls were things of the past and our drives became consistently smooth. I could tell Jordan was pleased and I was proud of his ability to push through challenge and gain skills and confidence.
Then that afternoon came. That afternoon that provided us both with an invaluable life lesson. A life lesson that I have since shared with hundreds of people in a workshop I facilitate on resilience. A life lesson that on the surface may sound so normal, so ordinary, but one that upon hearing causes a swell of emotions, inspires shifts in thinking, and the courage to change behaviours.
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I pulled up to the gym to pick up my Jordan. I saw him come out and signal with his hands, like he was holding onto a steering wheel, that he wanted to drive home. A gesture I had seen often in the past few months. But quickly I noticed today there was something different. Jordan was not alone. At his side was a friend. I knew this friend so when I got out of the car to grab shotgun, I smiled and greeted him as he jumped into the back seat. It dawned on me this would be my son’s first attempt to drive with a friend in the car.
Everyone buckled up. Jordan put the car into first gear, looked around the parking lot to make sure he was clear to go, began to release the clutch and feed the car gas when the car started to sputter, shake, and stall. It had been months since Jordan had stalled the car. I chalked it up to nerves with his buddy in the back seat. I said nothing; neither did his friend. Jordan calmly turned over the ignition and started the car back up again. Jordan’s proverbial rope has always been long. His temperament being rather level, it did not surprise me to see him calmly start the car and continue.
This time we made it about 50 feet to the stop sign to leave the complex. Jordan signalled right, checked the traffic turning onto a four-lane road, turned the steering wheel, and began to release the clutch and feed the car gas. Again the car sputtered, shook, and stalled. Once again, inside the car was silent. Jordan now appeared a little flustered, but for the most part, remained outwardly calm. He again started the car, signalled right, looked both ways, released the clutch while managing the gas pedal, and we were again off.
Leaving the complex, Jordan signalled left and successfully changed lanes. Our 10-minute drive home was in progress. I was proud to see Jordan manage discomfort and was appreciative his friend didn’t say a thing for stalling the car twice.
Approaching a red light, my son successfully geared down, signalled left and came to a stop. The light turned green, he again released the clutch, and fed the car gas. Apparently, again, not enough. The car started to sputter, shake, and ended up stalling. Although on the past two stalls Jordan epitomized patience and perseverance, this stall was different.
Now in four lanes of traffic, Jordan’s two hands forcefully hit the sides of the steering wheel and yelled, “Mom, take the wheel.” He had hit his limit. The composure Jordan had possessed had now disappeared. He was done. His friend was silent. The mama bear in me wanted to rescue him. For a second, I wondered how I could safely navigate getting out of my car in four lanes of traffic to take the wheel.
... and then I stopped my instinct to rescue. Without another thought I looked at him and said, “You’ve got this."
This is the time in my workshops that I feel a deep connection with my audience. Some of the participants are leaning forward in their seats with eyes gleaming in anticipation as to the end of the story ... and some appear to know where the story is going.
What resonates with everyone is the moment. This moment where they are transported back to being 16, a moment where they reflect on a situation they too found challenging ... and moment where they had to dig deep and decide what they were going to do next.
After an intentional moment of silence, I ask workshop participants, “What happened next”? The energy in the room intensifies as curiosity builds. Some call out, “He stalled it again,” a few offer “You drove home,” but more lean back in their seats and say, “He drove home without another stall.” Reading this, I invite you to think what happened next.
What happened next was what has ended up being one of my biggest life’s lessons. Hearing the words “You’ve got this,” Jordan turned over the ignition, signalled left, released the clutch, matching it successfully with the feed of gas. and we were off. Jordan did not stall the car again on that drive home.
Workshop participants smile with a sense of knowing glistening in their eyes. My voice falters as I am moved with heartfelt sentiment even though I have been sharing this story for years. It is a powerful moment for all. It is a moment of truth.
Bigger than being 16 years old, bigger than learning how to drive, bigger than trying to look cool with your friend in the car. It is a moment where you realize your potential, your capacity to deal with adversity, your ability to believe in yourself. It was a powerful moment and one of my favourite shared in the workshop.
As a mother, I resisted the urge to rescue. Rescuing would have robbed Jordan of leaning into discomfort and proving to himself he could do it. This moment has given me further courage and incentive to not take over my children’s struggles. Life is full of struggles where we are forced outside of our comfort zones. We all need to have someone believe in us in our moments of doubt to give us the courage to realize, “I’ve got this.”
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