More Is Caught Than Taught

I visited a friend for Thanksgiving.

Nothing formal. Just one of those homes where you walk in and immediately feel like you belong. The kitchen was already alive—warm, a little crowded, full of movement. You could hear things happening before you even saw them. Pots shifting. Laughter from the next room. Someone calling out, “Is this ready yet?”

And right in the middle of it all… was the turkey.

Not finished yet.

Still in process.

Being prepared.

And as I stood there watching, I noticed something.

Before she put the turkey in the oven… she took a knife and cut off both ends.

Just sliced them clean off.

Set them aside.

And then carried on like it was the most normal thing in the world.

So I asked her,

“Why did you do that?”

She paused… smiled a little… and said,

“I don’t know.”

She said, “That’s just how my mom always did it.”

So we asked her mom.

“Why do you cut both ends off the turkey?”

She thought about it for a moment… and gave the exact same answer.

“I don’t know. That’s just how my mom always did it.”

Now we’re two generations in…

and nobody knows why they’re doing what they’re doing.

So they called Grandma.

“Grandma, why do we cut both ends off the turkey before putting it in the oven?”

And without hesitation, she said,

“Oh—that’s easy.

We had a small oven.”

And just like that… it all made sense.

What started as a necessity…

became a tradition.

What was once practical…

became permanent.

And what was never explained…

just kept getting passed down.

Three generations…

Doing the same thing…

For a reason that no longer existed.

And here’s what struck me standing there in that kitchen—

Nobody sat down and taught that.

There was no lesson.

No explanation.

No intentional moment where someone said,

“Let me show you why we do this.”

It was simply observed…

repeated…

and passed on.

Because that’s how it works.

More is caught…

than taught.

And if something as small as cutting the ends off a turkey

can quietly pass from one generation to the next…

what else is being passed down the very same way?

Not through instruction…

but through observation.

Not through what we say…

but through how we live.

Because whether we realize it or not…

our lives are always teaching something.

The only question is—

what are the people closest to us learning…

just by watching us?

---000---

Part 1 — What You Chase Teaches Them What Matters

And if that’s true…

if more is caught than taught…

then the next question becomes very personal.

What do the people closest to you see you chasing?

Because whatever you pursue most consistently…

is what they will assume matters most.

Not what you say matters.

What you show matters.

Children are not confused about this.

They may not be able to explain it…

but they feel it.

They see what gets your attention.

They see what interrupts everything else.

They see what you make time for…

and what you don’t.

And over time, without ever sitting them down for a lesson,

they begin to form a quiet conclusion:

“That… must be what matters.”

Now we don’t usually think of it this way.

We think in terms of instruction.

We think, “As long as I teach them right… they’ll grow up right.”

But life doesn’t work that way.

Because your life is teaching all the time.

Not just when you intend it to.

All the time.

When you’re busy.

When you’re tired.

When you’re stressed.

When you’re just trying to get through the day.

It’s all being observed.

And one of the clearest ways this shows up…

is in what we chase.

In 2 Peter chapter 2, Peter describes people whose hearts have been trained—exercised—in covetousness.

That’s a strong word.

Not just occasional desire.

Not just wanting something.

But a life that has been shaped… trained… conditioned…

to always want more.

More money.

More comfort.

More success.

More security.

More recognition.

Always reaching.

Always pushing.

Always moving toward the next thing.

And here’s the danger—

when that becomes the pattern of a life…

it doesn’t stay private.

It becomes visible.

And the people closest to you begin to read it.

Not as a struggle…

but as a value.

They don’t see your internal tension.

They see your external direction.

They don’t hear the quiet voice in your head saying,

“I wish things were different…”

They see where your energy goes.

And they draw conclusions from that.

If work always wins…

they learn that work matters most.

If money is always tight—but somehow there’s always room for more…

they learn that having more matters most.

If everything seems urgent… everything seems necessary… everything seems non-negotiable…

they learn that life is about pressure.