The Words We Speak, or the Choices We Make?

Back in 2012, a 17-year-old young woman named Jessica told her family she was pregnant.

Her father, Bernard, was devastated.

He already disapproved of Jessica’s boyfriend. Bernard saw him as immature, unfocused, and nowhere near ready to become a husband or father. The young man talked about playing in the NBA, but from what I personally observed, much of his attention at the time was on drinking, smoking marijuana, partying, and having fun rather than seriously developing his basketball skills or preparing for adulthood.

But what stayed with me was not Bernard’s opinion of the boyfriend. It was what he told his daughter.

When Jessica said she wanted to keep her baby and stay with her boyfriend, Bernard essentially told her, “You are going to have a horrible life.”

He predicted the young man would eventually leave, fail to consistently support his child, and leave Jessica struggling from paycheck to paycheck. He warned her that the relationship could dramatically limit her opportunities and make climbing out of poverty extremely difficult.

At the time, I thought his words were incredibly harsh.

Jessica thought he was wrong.

She believed in her boyfriend. She believed he would mature, become a provider, and that somehow they would build their happily-ever-after.

Jessica eventually moved out of her parents’ home and into her boyfriend’s mother’s house. That arrangement did not last. She later moved in with her own mother, who had divorced Bernard. The tension surrounding everything happening in the family certainly did not make an already difficult situation easier.

When Jessica went into labor, her boyfriend was late getting to the hospital. With her mother beside her, she gave birth to her son, Deonus.

Fourteen years have now passed.

Recently, I caught up with Jessica through social media, and what she shared made me think about Bernard’s words all over again.

Her relationship with her father remains strained. She has spent much of her adult life underemployed and has needed government assistance at different times. The father of her child has not consistently paid child support. According to Jessica, when support begins coming out of his paycheck, he sometimes leaves the job and finds another one.

She also says his relationship with her remains unhealthy. His involvement with their son is inconsistent, and their personal relationship has made it more difficult for Jessica to completely move forward.

Dating has not been easy either. Some of the men she would consider dating are reluctant to enter a situation involving a teenage child and a difficult relationship with the child’s father.

Jessica never attended college. Finding dependable childcare while trying to work was another obstacle during her son’s younger years.

Now Deonus is 14. Jessica is uncomfortable leaving him home alone because he frequently gets into trouble. According to her, he has already been arrested four times for misdemeanor offenses.

And that brings me to a question I have been thinking about for years.

Did Bernard predict the future, contribute to it, or simply recognize warning signs that his daughter could not yet see?

I do not believe a father can speak a miserable future into existence simply by predicting one. His words did not force another man to avoid responsibility. They did not prevent Jessica from attending college. They did not make parenting difficult or cause her son to get into trouble.

But words do matter.

Perhaps Bernard’s mistake was not recognizing the danger. He may have been completely correct about many of the risks. His mistake may have been delivering the message as a sentence instead of a strategy.

Imagine the difference between saying, “Your life is going to be horrible,” and saying, “This road is going to be difficult, but we are going to make sure you finish school, develop a career, become financially independent, and give this child every possible opportunity.”

One sounds like condemnation.

The other sounds like preparation.

Parents sometimes see consequences their children cannot see. Experience gives you the ability to recognize patterns. But when someone we love is making a decision we strongly disagree with, perhaps our responsibility is not only to warn them about the cliff.

It is also to help them find another road.

Jessica’s story is not over. At 31 years old, neither is her son’s future permanently written.

That may be the most important lesson of all.

Predictions are not destiny.

The question is not simply whether Bernard was right.

The better question is: What can Jessica do now to make sure the next 14 years look nothing like the last 14?