What My Parents Did Right
I hear too much talk these days about dysfunctional families; I am weary of listening to tale after tale of how someone’s parents failed to meet their child’s needs and thereby ruined the kid’s life. So here’s a tribute to my mom and dad. They weren’t perfect, but they sure came close.
Mom and Dad spent the first four years of their marriage getting to know each other and deepening their love for each other. They were ecstatic over the births of each of their children, and they did the very best that they could to train us to be God-fearing, law-abiding, well-adjusted, well-educated people.
Mom and Dad didn’t put up with any nonsense from us kids. If we disobeyed, we were disciplined. They taught us to respect others, even those who seemed unrespectable. We learned that respect meant compassion and caring for the dignity of others. Mom taught us to meet the needs of others; I remember many glasses of water, and many bowls of soup, given in God’s name to those who needed them.
We learned self-discipline and self-reliance from the responsibilities that were entrusted to us. We were expected to keep our rooms neat and orderly, to help with the household chores, and to do our schoolwork properly and promptly. I am grateful for the perseverance they showed in making us mind and in teaching us right from wrong. I was a rebellious little thing, and I know it wasn’t always easy for them.
Always interested in new things, Mom was a well of information. She was a lot of fun — she always had a project ready to engage our minds and hands. There was no busy-work with Mom; everything we did had a purpose, and it was always well-sprinkled with the sugar of fun. We wove pot-holders, picked berries, made jelly, planted gardens, read stories, made bread …. Mom was a treasure chest of ideas and excitement.
Dad was a pillar of strength. He was always there with his strong arms when you were hurt, always ready to keep the bullies at bay. A quiet, gentle man, Dad had an aura of kindness and firmness that was reassuring. It was clear that Dad relied heavily on God. I remember waking very early one morning and seeing a light in the living room. I tiptoed into the hall to investigate, and there was Dad praying for us — it was a powerful sight that affected me greatly.
Mom and Dad never panicked. No matter what problem we dropped in their laps, they were calm and rational in their responses. They always stood up for us when we were treated unjustly, but they never took our side if we were in the wrong. They insisted that we take responsibility for our actions, and they held us accountable for our behaviour.
They taught us manners and respect. They taught us that a true education had little to do with knowledge of facts, and more to do with ability to think. They insisted that we learn to think. They never condemned or ridiculed our choices in life, but they discussed our choices with us and help us evaluate them. They allowed us the freedom to be ourselves, rather than trying to force us into a pre-determined mold. They supported us in all that we did, even when it was something that they didn’t understand or enjoy.
More than anything, my parents were there. Mom stayed home to care for us, even after we were all school-age. She kept a careful watch over us all, and when problems arose, she buried whatever fears she may have had, and handled them. She was always there when we were sick or sad…or scared. She calmed my terror the day a man followed me after school and terrified me by inviting me to get in his truck and take a ride; she cried with me when I lost the city-wide spelling bee. When I lost faith in myself because my failed marriage destroyed my self-confidence, Dad was there to tell me that I was capable and intelligent — he helped me get my mind off the failure and back on the path to success. They both spent lots of time with us: camping, playing, working, reading, and just being together.
Of great importance to me was the approachability of my parents. If I felt that they had been unjust or over-reactive, I could talk to them about the situation. Mom and Dad didn’t get defensive or angry when I brought problems to their attention; they listened with genuine concern and openness, and they freely admitted when they made mistakes. They would often come to me and say “You know, I was wrong, and I know that I hurt you. Would you please forgive me?” This habit of theirs, this maturity in being willing to admit that they weren’t perfect and to ask my forgiveness, trained me to accept criticism and admit my faults. What a wonderful gift!
There is no way to adequately express the valuable lessons my parents taught me. There is no conceivable way to repay the debt that I owe them. But I could have no higher goal in life than to be like them and to teach my children the lessons that they taught me.