My children are freaks. I am responsible because I raised them that way. I raised them to not only not need me to help them but to not want me to help them. The former was intentional and the latter a byproduct.
They figure things out for themselves, do for themselves, are financially independent from the day they graduated university. I gave them a better start than I had because I wanted to but that was the end of it. Once in a great while I am solicited as a sounding board for ideas.
Highlighting God as the ultimate resource puts it all in perspective. The parent may or may not be the vehicle of such help. Sometimes it comes from elsewhere. But all acknowledge God as the ultimate resource and ultimate wisdom.
Neither one of my kids would ever come to me for advice.
They both believe that I am what they call a Paleocon.
Their definition of Paleocon = A person who believes the finest things in life are to; “see your enemies driven before you, hear the piteous cries and lamentations of their women and children, to seize their lands and gold, to raze and destroy the temples of their false gods, etcetera”, you get the idea.
I just tell them; my mommy raised me that way, she was your Grandma.