Something on my Mind: A Safe Person (Part Two)

There are two types of people in the world: those who are safe people and those who need safe people. More often than not, they can be the same person (just not usually at the same time).

Last week's challenge to all, yours truly included, was to have a safe person to turn to, and be a safe person to turn to. It's so foundational and necessary for successful relationships. The second of the two questions is our starting-point today, namely, “Are you a safe person?”

If you need a further explanation, let me re-phrase the question: Can you be trusted by others without having a meltdown? Do others find you approachable and understanding, knowing full well you won't blow their confidence in you? Can individuals drop their guard in your presence?

If you said “Yes,” I'll be right over.

Let me add quickly that we all need others to listen to us, to understand us. To deny this need, or worse, even to acknowledge it, yet don't seek help for it, is tragic.

Perhaps we're afraid of being criticized. That's a legitimate fear, but there are times we need to be criticized—hopefully more constructively than destructively.

Indeed, being a safe person means you also have the right to correct wrong thinking or wrong actions. That allows you to fire or flunk someone; it means you can have a curfew for your kids, as part of the rules in the house. To think otherwise is, well, stupid: As a society, we're too edgy to either connect or confront, so nothing's safe anymore.

That previous statement, by the way, is a classic example of saying “no” or “wrong” when it's necessary.

Being a safe person means we're not overly-critical, but neither are we non-critical. The balance lies somewhere between allowing nothing and allowing anything. We, as wannabe safe people, often fail this litmus test because we're unclear of our role, we fear reprisal, or we don't want hurt those who trust us.

And the key is how, when, and why you react the way you do. The difference, simply put, might be in knowing when to speak up and when to shut up. (Kids, noticed how I used the term “shut up”?)

On the other hand, if you're looking for a safe person, one of greatest favours they can do for you is to lovingly correct you; unchecked, your issue(s) could lead to worse consequences than you can imagine.

Safe people want the best for those who trust them, so they should never want to do them any real harm. Safe people know the crucial needs of those who come to them, so they never do anything to turn them away. The recipient may choose to turn away for other reasons, but that's their problem, not yours.

Just keep in mind failure is not the same as determined defiance; nor is it the same as repeated mistakes. We need to allows others (and ourselves) liberty to fail, and have the freedom to admit it.

I think one of my greatest shortcomings as a father, and pardon the public confession, is that I believe I have not been perceived as a safe dad, a person who allows honest mess-ups. I have struggled in allowing myself to fail, and as a consequence, I have been too harsh on family members.

As I reflect over the past couple of decades, I should have been a bit slower to emend and a bit faster to embrace. Probably many parents feel the same way; trouble is, we just have one go at this momentous task of parenting our kids.

I assure you, I am attempting to make up for lost time--'nough said!

But enough about me: What about you? Do you see yourself as safe person? Do others see you as a safe person? Ask yourself the same questions I asked about fourteen paragraphs ago.

The key is to know how to be a safe person, then practise being a safe person and creating a safe place.

Strangely enough, over the years, I have found this column to be a bit of safe place for me: I have felt the freedom to opine, criticize, and whine a little, with limited fear of reprisal. I assure you, I guard this trust you've given me very seriously. I would like to think that you feel the same way, namely, that you find in this column a place where you can read it in the privacy of your own home, have an opinion, launch a criticism, and whine a little, when I appear to be off my rocker.

Well, you're welcome to my safe place anytime.

Something on my Mind: A Safe Person (Part One)

One of my goals as a classroom teacher this year is to provide a safe place for kids. I say classroom only because that is part of my world; in your case, it could be a class of a different sort or a community team. I simply speak of any sphere where the most vulnerable of our society need a place of refuge.

Kids need this because things can get rough out there--”out there” meaning places where people are. The classroom is a great example, where there can be bullying, or confusion about a concept. In moments of frustration or fear, kids need a person or a place of security.

Because I set the dial for the emotional climate in the room, that would mean that I must be perceived as a safe person—and I do mean person, not merely teacher.

Adults have the same needs, too, of course, and we'll discuss this next week. Suffice to say (or, just to keep you anticipating), adults tend to hide their lack of a safe haven through a wide variety of means—many of them masking deep-rooted pain.

This “safe” vision actually starts in my personal life—namely, me, in my own home, with my own family. I want my home to be a safe home for my family, as well as for all who enter in. Beyond that, I want to be a member of a safe church, and live in a safe community. Communities make up countries, and, well, you draw your own conclusions.

And the kids that need a safe classroom are the same one who really need that safety to start at home—but it often doesn't. I may be naive, but the home is foundation from which all this should be the most evident.

Probably before we get any further, we need to define our terms. Sometimes definitions, at least initially, are best understood by what they aren't; this gives us parameters for discussion. Within that fold, then, we can clearly define what we're talking about.

“Safe” is not simply tolerating destructive behaviour that's breaking the law (at any level). Nor are “safe” actions permissible where anything goes and where there are no consequences. Either one of those terms falls into a liberal, socialistic, and anarchistic mentality. We see enough of that in our “tolerant” culture.

Let's play with words (surprise, surprise) for a moment here: When I use the words “safeguard, safety net, safe house, and safety valve,” you have a sense that everything is all right, that there's a sense of security and well-being. So I think“safe person” is an appropriate term.

A safe person (the key to all of this), whether it's in the home, workplace, classroom, church, and community, is one who allows for failures and foibles, mix ups and mistakes of others--and is there to pick up the pieces. He or she allows said family member, child, friend, colleague—even stranger-- to drop their guard, to be free, open, and honest.

This means people in our care can use any given word incorrectly and not get their head taken off; mispronounce another word and not get yelled at. They can give an off-base opinion, dump and dump some more, even whine a little.

People need other people with whom they can think out loud; in other words, vent, opine, criticize, and disagree.

There is real liberty in the freedom of expression, even though some expressions of freedom need to be challenged and monitored. It calls for real discernment on the part of the safe person as to where to draw the line. Too many of us either draw it too soon or don't even waste time drawing it.

It's almost like Confession without the religious overtones, victim impact statements without the trauma, or criticism without its wounds.

If we all made an effort to be safe people, and tried to create safe places, I believe there would be a huge upgrade in our families, workplaces, and any other social environment. There would be a huge impact in our financial, moral, educational, even physical lives.

Life is like one big classroom: One, there are a lot of bullies out there; and two, sometimes life is just not fair. It would nice if there was someone we could feel safe with, someplace we could go for refuge.

Do you have that safe place? Are you that safe person?

Something on my Mind: Nothing to Eat

There are some fundamental differences between males and females. Kids, if you need to know what they are, ask your parents; parents, if you're still not sure yourself after all these years, ask your kids.

The main difference that comes to mind is the following: Women look into a closet chock-full of clothes and say, “I have nothing to wear,” whereas men look into a fridge chock-full of food and say, “There's nothing to eat.”

If I had any doubts as to my gender, which I don't, I confirmed this week that I am a male: When I looked into my closet, I was reminded that I have too many clothes—thanks to thrift stores and cheap sales—but I at least had plenty to wear. The problem was with the fridge (or, better stated, with the guy looking into the fridge): It was full of leftovers, fresh baking, plenty of beverages—and that was just the first shelf.

I solved the problem of “no food” by eating at the local golf course.

The reason we're on our own is that my wife and one of the kids have gone to BC for ten days or so (not home yet, so I have to add the “or so” part to be honest). The happy occasion is that one of my married daughters has given birth to another son, so Mother has stepped up to the plate, as it were, to help take of the other children, cook meals, and so on.

In the meantime, the few of us left at the Back Thirty must fend for ourselves.

We're doing okay, so thanks for asking. And for those who didn't ask, we 're still doing okay.

I should quickly add that the one daughter still at home is a marvelous cook like her mother; as well, I have a son who likes to dabble in the kitchen. Between the two of them, my needs are well taken care of. It's the time between when one or the other isn't available that's the crunch for yours truly.

Even at a skeletal roster of only four kids and parent, we hardly sit down together and eat a meal. Maybe that's normal in many households; if so, that's too bad. But in our case, we have kids working either full-time at the Post Office or part-time on a grain farm or a feedlot, or the old man (Maurice, bite your tongue) has gone to school a few days over the ten days, plus a gazillion (slightly colourful exaggeration) tasks and projects.

So it's tough to find time to eat together. But before that happens, one needs to find the food in the fridge, then prep it--which brings me full circle back to my opening quip (“nothing to eat in the fridge”--in case your memory is too short).

There's an expression in the Good Book that sounds like this: “Every man did that which was right in his own eyes.” We have adopted and adapted that one--making it a revised version, you might say-- when it comes to meals at the Funston household, namely, “Every man ate what was right in his own eyes.”

My wife is a magician when it comes to putting meals together. She can look into the same full fridge that I do and come up with a gourmet meal that rivals any good restaurant. How she does it, I cannot tell. I think it has something, once again, with the female genes versus the male genes: She sees what it could be and heads for the oven, whereas I see what it is—and head to the nearest cafe.

One of my specialties when my wife is gone is the “BF Pork Roast”: The “BF” part is my late father's initials and the “Pork Roast” part is actually more pork than roast, and to be truthful, more beans than pork. Okay, okay, I really exaggerate: it's simply a cold can of pork and beans, eaten right out of the can...cold.

I even make it gourmet when I add a thick layer of cheese on top, nuke it, and dump it over toast.

People, I'm just doing my environmental thing by not wasting gas to cook it, nor water to wash it. I'm sure it's the staple food of the Green Party.

Next time you see me, you'll observe that I'm not wasting away. In fact, I'm more waist than waste. These trips away from home are good for me, even though I'm not the one who's going. It makes me appreciate what my wife does when it comes to meals, if nothing else.

Now if there was some way I could get a little more creative with that can of beans...