Tieri’s Worries, Perspectives, and Instructions: Worry Less. Grow More. Stand Upright. Trust the Process

Parenting, for me, has been the greatest classroom of life. Raising my son, Tieri, has been nothing short of transformation, not just for him, but for me. Every worry he expresses, every experiment he attempts, every frustration he voices, teaches me something fundamental about life. In his small cries, I hear echoes of the larger struggles we all face as adults. In his perspective, I see a mirror of our own.

Pajamas at the Ankles: Growth Misunderstood

One morning, I watched Tieri tug furiously at the legs of his pajama trousers. He wanted them to touch his ankles. The harder he pulled, the more frustrated he became, until tears flowed.

What he did not realize was simple:

1. He was outgrowing the pajamas. The “problem” was not that his trousers were short, but that he was growing taller. Growth is a blessing, not a curse.

2. His posture mattered. When he bent down to adjust the trousers, they seemed shorter. But when he stood upright, they reached farther.

The lesson? Many of our so-called problems are really signs of growth misunderstood. And often, the way we are positioned, our posture, our perspective, makes the difference between despair and understanding.

The Tricycle That Wouldn’t Stand

Another day, Tieri attempted something curious: he wanted his tricycle to balance on two wheels instead of three. Of course, it toppled. In frustration, he cried. I nearly told him, “It can’t be done.” But I stopped myself. Instead, I let him try again.

With persistence, he managed to tilt it briefly onto two wheels. It wasn’t sustainable, but it was possible.

That moment taught me never to dismiss a child’s concerns as “impossible.” His experiment, though limited by the design of the tricycle, was valid. His tears taught me that worry is sometimes a form of persistence. And his success, however fleeting reminded me that possibility is often born from refusing to quit too soon.

The Food He Cannot Yet Eat

Like many children, Tieri has appetites that must wait. He wants popcorn, but for that we say, “Not until you are five.” He wants endless candies and fries, but we tell him he can only have a little of what is good for his health.

Still, he does not stop asking. He persists. He worries. He keeps returning to what we have told him he cannot yet eat, or cannot eat much of.

From his perspective, our denial feels cruel. He sees it as rejection. From ours, it is protection. Popcorn will come. Chewing gum will come. But not yet. For now, his appetite must be disciplined until his body is ready.

That small timeline has become a larger metaphor for me. In life, much of what frustrates us is not never, it is not yet. Delay is not denial. Maturity and timing open doors that impatience cannot. Waiting tests our patience, but it also safeguards our destiny.

The Bigger Lesson: Perspective Shapes Reality

Here is the profound truth I’ve gleaned: children do worry. Their worries may seem small in our adult eyes, but they are very real in theirs. Yet most of the issues that trouble them are not true problems at all. They are matters of growth, timing, or limited knowledge.

And so it is with us adults.
* The pajamas aren’t short, you’re simply growing.
* The tricycle isn’t broken, you’re just experimenting with new possibilities.
* The gum and popcorn aren’t denied forever, they’re simply awaiting the right time.

Our frustrations are often less about reality and more about perspective. And perspective, in turn, flows from our values, our knowledge, our skills, and our attitudes. Shift the perspective, and the “problem” reveals itself as progress.

A Father’s Reflection

As a father in his fifties raising a young son, I see how easily human beings mistake growth for failure, delay for denial, experimentation for disaster. Watching Tieri’s little worries has sharpened my own guard against despair. Life is full of concerns, yes, but many of them are not problems at all. They are invitations to grow, to adjust, to wait.

This realization has become my discipline: to pause, to ask, is this really a problem, or is it growth in disguise?

My Guard This Week

The message I carry with me, and the one I share through this column, is this:

Worry less. Grow more. Stand upright. Trust the process. Time will vindicate what you cannot yet have.

Like Tieri, we tug at trousers, tilt our bicycles, and cry over popcorn. But the God who fathers us all knows that growth, timing, and perspective are shaping us for more.

This is the guard I keep before my heart this week.