Criticizing, Condemning, or Complaining Will Never Bring You Success.

I know none of us want to admit that we sometimes are guilty of criticizing or condemning others but it happens.

We may not mean to be critical and there’s a good chance we don’t even realize it.

As parents, many times we are critical of our own children.  Maybe their room isn’t always as tidy as we would like for it to be.

Maybe they spilled something at dinner or their grades aren’t as good as we want them to be.

While reading the book “How To Win Friends And Influence People” by Dale Carnegie, he shares a story “Father Forgets”.

I’m going to share the same story here:

FATHER FORGETS

W. Livingston Larned

Listen Son, I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little hand crumpled under your cheek and blonde curls sticky over your wet forehead. I have broken into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me.

Guilty, I came to your bedside.

There are things which I am thinking, son; I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face a mere dab with the towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. As you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”.

Then it began all over again late this afternoon.

As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playlng marbles. There were holes in your socks. I humiliated you before your friends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Socks were expensive, and if you had to buy them you would be more careful!

Imagine that son, from a father.

Do you remember later, when I was reading in the library, how you came timidly, with sort of a hurt look in your eyes? I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption; you hesitated at the door. “What is it that you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, your small arms tightened with affection that God had set blooming in your heart, which even neglect could not wither.

Then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, Son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me.

What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, or reprimanding; this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you: it was that I expected too much of you. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

There is so much that was good, fine and true in your character.

The little heart of yours was as big as the dawn itself over the hills. Thls was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else mattered tonight. Son, I have come to your beside in the darkness, I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement;

I know that you would not understand these things which I have told you in the waking hours. Tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, suffer when you suffer and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy–a little boy.”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man.

Yet as I see you now, Son, crumpled and weary in your bed. I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much!

Instead of condemning and criticizing others, perhaps we it would be better to try to understand them, to try to figure out why they do what they do. That’s a lot more profitable and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy, tolerance and kindness, rather than contempt…!!!

This reminds me a something that happened to me several years ago when I was in the corporate world working at a bank.

One of my supervisors said to me “You can’t take constructive criticism.” My response “You can’t give constructive criticism.” 

Who won?

Neither of us…Fortunately, we respected each other enough that we continued to work together for several years.  Not only did we continue to work together but we worked “pleasantly” with each other.  I admire and respect that man to this day.

Even though he could be very critical. We got along.

“You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1960

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