The Cul-de-Sac: Drawing the Line…and Moving It

Does everyone know what a cul-de-sac is? The dictionary defines it as a street designed to connect to another street at only one end, limiting traffic and creating a safer place for those who live there.

My definition is a little different. A cul-de-sac is more than a safe place for children to play; it is a place where they can grow, take risks, and begin discovering who they are. 

We have six children. Our youngest is now in college, and while growing up – and still today –  our home is in a large cul-de-sac. When I look back, I realize that the circle at the end of our street was much more than pavement.

It was their first arena. It was where they could be safe. It was where they could be who they wanted to be. It was where they grew up, took risks, found joy, made friends, tested boundaries, fell down, got back up, ran fast—and learned who they were becoming.

As a parent, I loved watching our children venture into the cul-de-sac to play with each other and the neighborhood kids. When I ask our children what they remember most, their answers make me smile.

They remember running back and forth on the street to “prepare their feet” for our week-long, extended-family cabin trip at the lake. They were determined to toughen their feet so they could run faster than their siblings and cousins across the rough terrain.

They remember the fire hydrant being tested by the county. Every time, it flooded the cul-de-sac where they would stand and watch in fascination as the water pressure sent a powerful stream straight into the air. And they played in it!

And they remember the freedom. They ran. They hopped. They rode their bikes. They played without a care in the world. They skinned their knees, landed on their elbows, and somehow managed to smile some of their biggest smiles right there in that circle of pavement. There were lots of tricycles going around and around for what seemed like hours.

When they first learned to ride, I would walk to the edge of the cul-de-sac and draw a line on the pavement with my foot. “This is as far as you can go.”

And they rode. Then the tricycles became two-wheel bikes with training wheels. I walked farther down our long street and drew another line.

Their world had just gotten bigger. Eventually, the training wheels came off.

Suddenly, they and their neighborhood friends and cousins had forgotten all about tricycles and training wheels. They were riding faster. They were wobbling. They were falling. They were getting back on.

And the line I had once drawn with my foot? It expanded to our neighborhood. What I noticed every time the line moved was that their courage grew, too.

Their skills grew. Their confidence grew. Their understanding of challenges grew. They learned that fear did not necessarily mean stop. Sometimes fear simply meant try. They learned that courage is seldom comfortable.

Then, suddenly, they were in Driver Education. As one of their “driving instructors”—with all my nerve endings removed, by the way—I watched each of them begin to drive.

One of my favorite stories involves our youngest. When she was first learning to drive, she wanted to practice backing the car out of the garage. There was just a little confusion about which pedal was the brake and which was the accelerator. She pressed the accelerator. The car lurched forward and dented the garage refrigerator. She looked at me with wide eyes.

I said the only thing I could think to say: “Well, now the refrigerator has more character with that dent—and you’ll never forget the difference between the brake and the accelerator.”

End of story.

But perhaps not really. Because with each child learning to drive, I knew their world was becoming larger than the cul-de-sac where they had grown up. The line my foot could draw now extended much further.

It reached our community.

Our country.

Our world. Germany, Spain, England.

And our little cul-de-sac had quietly prepared them for it. It was there that they learned to help each other and to be kind. They learned to take risks—and that it was okay to fall off a bike as long as you got back up and tried again. They learned about passion and perseverance.

They learned that feedback matters and that honest conversations can help us grow. They learned that sheer joy can happen whether the sun shines or the rain falls. They learned that fear is not the opposite of courage. Fear is often a deep part of courage.

They learned to lead. They learned to dare greatly. And they learned that no matter how far they rode, how fast they went, or how big their world became, they would always belong to our family.

As their mom, I also learned something.

Our children have done a pretty good job of parenting me. Because of their courage and their leadership as children, I became a more courageous parent. I learned to draw the line with my foot—and then move it out further.

I learned that protecting our children does not mean keeping them from every fall. Sometimes it means giving them a safe place to fall, knowing they will get back up. And I learned that the ultimate goal of parenting is not to keep our children in the cul-de-sac. It is to prepare them to leave it. And to return regularly.

My advice?

Walk into the parenting arena with courage. Be willing to engage with others. Be willing to listen, learn, and sometimes be wrong. And admit it.  When today is really tough, tell yourself: “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Keep riding. In the cul-de-sac and beyond. No matter how far. No matter how fast. Because parenting is leading. Leadership is an action. Leadership is an example.

And, by the way, don’t forget to return to your cul-de-sac every once in a while. As a parent. As a child who grew up with the cul de sac.

As an adult, return to the people and the place that grounded you. Return to the memories that remind you of who you are. Return to the people who watched you wobble, fall, get back up, and ride again.

Your parents will be forever grateful. Because the cul-de-sac was never just a street. It was a safe place to begin. It was a place to grow. It was a place to learn courage. It was, after all, the cul-de-sac.

So, no matter where you’re heading next, I wish you the very best in the adventure of your life.

Ride on.

Family Ink: The Mother and Son Storytelling Team