Parenting As The Parented

Parenting is unique in that it is something we all experience before we set out to do it ourselves. It's impossible to go into it with a blank slate: maybe we had a bad experience and vow to do it differently. Maybe we had great ones and try to do it all the same. Or more often, it's a mix of the two. And really, our concept of how well or poorly we were parented is a nuanced, changing thing, changing as we ourselves change. Changing as we ourselves parent.

You only have to look as far as siblings to see this. While we had the same general experience growing up, something my parents did that affected my sister deeply may be something I barely remember. Every time I hang out with Dave’s sister, I’m similarly impressed by how the same things their parents did imprinted in differing ways or extents in her life compared with Dave’s.

Our own valuation of how we were parented is hardly linear. We start off not knowing anything different; then most of start to evaluate our parents in our teens to early twenties. We see their fallibility, compare them with our friends’ parents, place their worldviews and values in the context of larger culture or our own evolving beliefs. We try to perceive what has been ingrained; we accept some parts and reject others. This happens more deeply and exhaustively after marriage, as assumptions from our upbringing come to light, and as we decide together what to incorporate into our own parenting. Then we become parents ourselves, maybe seeing how difficult all that theory can be to put into practice.

Probably the most important thing I’ve learned is that it’s not all black-and-white. When I was younger, I thought my parents could do no wrong, and his parents rarely did it right. I see now that there are some values my parents prioritized that I may not push as exclusively for my kids, and that his parents have strengths and legacies that will bless our family for generations. Wrapped up in that is realizing that I can’t see anything clearly until I choose to forgive and let go of any accumulated bitterness. Anger towards my parents or in-laws cripples my ability to parent my own children in a healthy way. It only passes toxic baggage down to another generation, and prevents me from receiving whatever blessing they may have to offer despite the brokenness. And part of seeing the nuances is realizing I can’t judge them, that I almost certainly don’t understand their circumstances, or even what they carried from their own parents.

How has my parents’ parenting influenced how I parent my kids? Pretty enormously, I guess. First and foremost, they took parenting seriously. They never put ministry or career above their kids. They approached it with a sort of intellectual earnestness, a commitment to quality, despite not having the best examples themselves or having similarly-minded parents in their immediate community. They read books, discussed issues. I remember lots of ideas, some that panned out better than others, but there was always something they were trying: a date-night reward system, playing character-focused games, structuring annual vacations. I never question the value of the time I spend with the kids, which comes in large part from them.

Secondly, they passed along a lot principles we try to keep: the best gift you can give your children is a healthy marriage. If something bothers you about your child, look at yourself first. Always stay one step ahead of your kids. Never fight in front of your kids (arguably healthy fighting can be okay). Always stay united in front of your kids. Never criticize your child in public. Never negatively compare your child with their siblings. Read often to your kids. Supplement their education at home. Never criticize your child’s teacher in the child’s presence. I could go on.

Besides the aphorisms, they did practical things we try to follow: dinner was always a time we sat around the table together, without distraction. I remember similar tea-times we’d have. We had family devotions (not that I was always into them), and I remember going on dates (eating out then was a big deal). My dad was there to pick me up after school activities every day (I now appreciate the work flexibility that involved). He tutored me on physics and math often until midnight. My mom never missed a piano recital or competition. Most of all, I had an absolute sense of unconditional love: I never questioned that I was worthy of love, or needed to find it elsewhere.

But I’ve also come to see some things I’d do differently. My parents didn’t focus as outwardly on community; they were wary of bad influences, or friends taking up too much of our energy. I hope we can emphasize community to our kids, even at the cost of our comfort. I hope our home is a place all their friends will want to gather. We hope to go on missions trips with the kids. My parents didn’t always discipline me to the point of teaching me that my self-centeredness is not okay if it hurts others, even if it’s related to a drive for excellence—I can’t blame them for that; I was pretty strong-willed. But that’s something we’ve made an effort to try to teach our kids early on. We didn’t handle conflict very openly growing up: I hope our kids have the skills for and habit of discussing issues openly. And there are certain things we didn’t do—we didn’t travel a ton, discuss current news or world issues—that are simply reflections of my dad’s personality or our own inclinations, but that I look forward to developing more with our kids, mostly because Dave enjoys those things.

And there are things from my in-laws I hope to pass on to the kids: a love for the arts, a talent for evangelism and networking, how to handle wealth healthily.

I’m sure one day the kids will be processing the same things about us. There are things we’ll do great, and blind spots we’ll have. I hope they’ll have the same grace and discernment about it that I try to have about our parents. And I hope it’ll be something we can walk through together, just like we still are meeting with and learning from my parents today.