In yesterday’s sermon, my husband told the story about his speeding ticket. He was returning home from our farm earlier this month, taking a route through Chattanooga, TN. The speed limit suddenly changed to 35 mph, and he didn’t see it. A cop was waiting in the area to pull him over.

While my husband waited for his $58 speeding ticket to be written, the police officer gave him a lecture on safe driving. He listened politely while thinking, I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive… It’s funny, of course, to be lectured by a 20-year-old kid with a gun on his waist.

A similar situation happened to me at the hospital. It’s actually happened twice, but I will just tell about the most recent example. I’d just delivered my sixth baby. I was cozy in my bed and nursing her. A lactation consultant came in to see if I need any advice. I thanked her for her work—yea for women who help other women with this sometimes difficult process—but declined any help. I mentioned that I was an experienced nursing mother and that the topic is one I’m well-read on. “I’m all good,” I said, “but thank you so much for your offer. Oh, and hey, do you want some hospital Jell-O?”

She wouldn’t leave. She insisted on knowing my schedule. She wanted to know about the baby’s diapers. She wanted to see the latch. I obliged to be friendly, and I even peppered my answers with some weird breastfeeding trivia.

She came back the next day and the next. She also called me after I arrived home. (I was not flagged for anything; this is really just a case of standard operating procedure.) After all these exchanges, I finally asked the whippersnapper if she was a mother herself. She was not.

In the two cases I mentioned above, the lecturer had some knowledge but lacked experience. It made the medicine more difficult to swallow, even if it happened to be the right prescription. The flip side is also true.

For instance, I’ve happened upon mega-moms with tons of nursing experience. Breastfeeding came easy for them, and so they haven’t needed to research the subject in any great depth. Young moms have asked for advice and have been given the wrong answer. The thinking is, “Hey, it worked for me. It will work for you.” You know, eat some oatmeal and call me in the morning.

I’m not saying you need to be a retired rocket scientist before you teach third grade science. In fact, let me digress here and tell you about my maternity care. I’ve had 3 different male obstetricians, 1 female obstetrician, 2 Certified Nurse Midwives, and 1 lay midwife. Without a doubt, each of the male obstetricians had the best bedside manner. Men obviously do not have any personal experience in these matters. (I know you will email me to tell me my experience is exceptional. Ready. Go!) The male obstetricians were the most competent and caring. Plus, they all appreciated my very good jokes, and this is important. There were no snippy snide comments from the men and also no drama. Trust me, I definitely prefer a female for my care (um, hello), but I haven’t had great luck with that.

So there’s my standard disclaimer that there are exceptions. My observation for all it’s worth is this: wisdom is a combination of experience and knowledge. Experience is good. Knowledge is good. But when you combine the two, ba-da-bing, it’s a very good thing.