Raising Children: does technology prevent development of self awareness

I am discovering, as I navigate this new life in free-fall, that my mind is becoming decluttered! That includes the details of day-to-day living and looking out for a child. I hope, in turn, the child's mind will become less cluttered too. Today, with available technology and entertainment at an all time high, and transportation making real travel to the far corners of the earth (and even beyond) feasible, we have too much clutter.

Henry David Thoreau said, "Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify. Simplify." He was born nearly 200 years ago. How he would be balk at the extraneous distractions we are now surrounded by!

It isn't easy to simplify nowadays, is it? We're a consumer society; we have friends and virtual friends around the world; technology allows our work to demand our attention 24/7. When have we time to see the flowers, never mind to stop and smell them? The complicated life is the norm today. But I've opted to let go of the distortion of my time. I've chosen to leave some of the avenues available to me untrod. Quite literally, some of my boxes from the overseas move (read the previous 9 part blog series beginning here ) have been left in storage - unopened and, for the most part, not missed.

Clutter is the enemy of the mind. I'm going to go out on a limb and preach about how clutter- in the area of technology at least - is a risk to our kids.

There are all kinds of stats on child development as regards technology. Too much of it messes with their eyesight, their attention, their fitness. I get all that, and personally, I've chosen to er on the side of caution, in raising my son. Even though he might lag behind his class in technological sophistication, it's a relatively small price to pay, I think, because I'm of the view that too much screen time means too little time for children to get to know themselves.

Playing alone, playing with other children, reading, participating in sports, learning skills including music, all these activities are tools that help a child to grow in their talents. But even more than that, they are means for children to get to know themselves. To learn likes and dislikes from a variety of activities, to meet a range of people and have to find ways to get along with them, these are just a couple of examples where people develop a sense of themselves in the universe. And time for boredom is important too. It's my personal belief that we all need time to just sit with nothing to do. Our world today doesn't seem to allow for much of that.

So, as I simplify my life by aiming to live without a set agenda for each moment of the day, I aim to enable my child to have 'nothing to do' sometimes and plenty of time to reflect and play.

The quiet mind is the peaceful mind. I hope my child will learn to enjoy peace, quiet, rest for his soul, so that he will wake up as an adult knowing who he is, where he wants to go in his life, and he'll have the personal development and self awareness to get himself there.

I've been posting a lot lately. You can catch other new stuff at:
Life from the Lighthouse and http://www.laruspress.com especially a post called: The Internet The Void

Love and God bless to you this week. See you next Thursday... AND:




END NOTE: For those who haven't known me for long, and perhaps for some who have: You might enjoy my other blog:
Life from the Lighthouse -- all about what God shows me when He talks to me and I listen. New posts monthly on the 1st.










My website for the Self Publishing House is www.LarusPress.com where I blog on wholeness, witness, the Word of God and worship & warfare. Larus Press offers Christian-based books, blogs and literature to inspire, encourage, equip and empower your living spirit.
Subscribe to our free newsletter, Soaring Post, with issues every Thursday to equip you for your spiritual walk.

See you next Thursday here at A Life Examined.

Security - Part 3

What is Unconditional Love?

Are you, like me, the sort of person who is sensitive to what others think or feel toward you? Sensitivity to others is a gift, so long as what they think doesn't impact your own sense of self worth. While it is valuable to be aware of others' attitudes, if our identity comes from what others think of us rather than what we know of ourselves, our own self-image can be quite shaken or damaged by another's disapproval.

Children love to please. And if they are pleasing to a parent, they will learn to feel good about themselves. The only problem with this is, what if they are not pleasing to a parent (or later to a teacher, relative, or friend)? From the very beginning of our lives, if we know we are loved "no matter what," we will begin to build a self image that is confident and secure. Knowing we are loved unconditionally, rather than based on our behaviour, success, or appearance, is at the root of our emotional security.

Learning to love unconditionally is a start to learning to receive unconditional love... Or is it the other way around?

I don't believe, personally, that there is anyone on planet earth today who is perfect. Lots of people are very nice, kind or at least well-intended. There are a lot of very smart people and very creative ones too - Leonardo da Vinci happened to be both! And a lot of people try very hard to make their mark in the world. For some, that's raising children, for others it means inventing something or making a lot of money. But what we do doesn't make us who we are.

When we are content with who we are, then we have peace of mind - in spite of circumstances around us.

Who of us doesn't want to be loved, not for what we do or achieve, but for who we are inside? Because deep down, we all must know that, if the money or fame or success goes away, will there be anyone cheering us on anyway, loving us and supporting us, regardless of our situation?

Security is knowing I am loved, unconditionally, for who I am. Security is accepting myself as I am, and aiming to be consistent, integral to who I am, even if someone else might disapprove. It isn't licence to be anything but the best we can be at patience, love, kindness, gentleness, self-control. But it isn't reprimand or shame when we aren't as good as we (or someone else) expect ourselves to be.

If you're familiar with the film, LOVE STORY you'll remember the classic line, 'Love means never having to say you're sorry.' Or if you've read enough PEANUTS cartoons you'll recall Lucy's "Psychologist is In" sign or Snoopy's placard that begins with: "Love Is..." We all have a take on what love is.

I think, "Love is... Unconditional". Real love doesn't stop if we don't achieve or fulfill expectations or behave perfectly. Real love is hard to find - and hard to practice. There are some relationships where love never fails, never gives up, wants only what's best for us. And when we have a taste of a relationship like that, we feel, believe and know we are loved. There is where our security truly lies.

We can find that sort of love in ourselves, in God, in parents, in partners, in friends.

To the extent I have experienced unconditional love, I've felt safe, secure, relieved. To the extent I've felt judged, even condemned, I've had to draw on the resource of unconditional love to help me through loneliness, disappointment, or self-berating. I've learned to recognize another's approval or their disapproval and not let it shake my self-concept as a person who is doing her best, always seeking to grow, love and learn more about life, joy and peace.

Although I've felt love and the pain of rejection, although I've fallen and picked myself up, my consistent resource for unconditional love is God, and He's never let me down.

Food for thought, 'til next time... 


Love and God bless to you this week. See you next Thursday... AND:




END NOTE: For those who haven't known me for long, and perhaps for some who have: You might enjoy my other blog:
Life from the Lighthouse -- all about what God shows me when He talks to me and I listen. New posts monthly on the 1st.










My website for the Self Publishing House is www.LarusPress.com where I blog on wholeness, witness, the Word of God and worship & warfare. Larus Press offers Christian-based books, blogs and literature to inspire, encourage, equip and empower your living spirit.
Subscribe to our free newsletter, Soaring Post, with issues every Thursday to equip you for your spiritual walk.


See you next Thursday here at A Life Examined.

Forgiveness - Part 6

Sibling Rivalry.

There are a lot of things that siblings can argue about when they are young. I believe parents need to guide their children to love each other, to get over the hurdles, and to teach them how to respect each other so that when they grow up they can be friends.

I have a friend who has three siblings. With both parents gone now, they make every effort to spend quality time together, even though they don't live in the same city. That's beautiful to see.

It isn't like that in all families.

I was the youngest of two children. I remember my sister being forced to wear the same design of coat that I had. It was embarrassing for her and I felt sorry for her, even though it wasn't my fault my mother sometimes chose identical clothes. I remember her being given a classical guitar when she wanted an acoustic one. I felt sorry she didn't get what she really wanted. Things seemed to go that way a lot for her, while I seemed to manage more often to get what I wanted.  At least that's how I think she perceived it.

My mother usually blamed her for arguments between us, siting her as the elder who should know better. It wasn't my fault my mother scolded her, but I think she blamed me.

When there is more than one child in a family there is bound to be some sibling rivalry. How that is grappled with is really important. My mother had no siblings so she wasn't very well equipped to teach us how to love each other, though she sorely wanted us to.

We can take our families for granted. We can wish they were different or, as I sometimes did, imagine we were adopted so that one day the reason I didn't fit in would be discovered and my 'real' family would embrace me and I could escape the isolation of the current family.

Instead, those of us who feel like misfits, muddle through childhood, and jump into the garden of freedom as soon as possible, only to discover life, with all it's complicated relationships, isn't so ideal after all.

I wonder if my sister thinks I had it easier than she did. We both had our traumas growing up and our disappointments. I remember observing her struggles, but as I was younger, I didn't know how to show empathy. I wish I could have. That might have made us closer. Instead, I can't help thinking she compared my disappointments with hers, and finding hers the more challenging, concluded life treated her more unfairly.

Forgiveness is realizing the past can't be changed and accepting the circumstances and people of the past for what they were. Although there is a gulf between my sister and me, I forgive myself for anything I did to provoke it and I forgive her for not seeing me for who I am now.

Readers, if you have a sibling (or three), may I encourage you to reach out to them and show them love, grace and acceptance. If they are your friends, that is such a wonderful gift! But if they've hurt you, while you may not want to give your trust away, perhaps you could ask yourself what it is you expect from them that they haven't delivered. You may discover they weren't able to give what you'd hoped for, not out of carelessness, but out of ignorance or innocence. And that recognition will give you room to begin to forgive.

As tomorrow is the calendar day to express love, I'd like to share a heart or two with you, hoping love and forgiveness today will bring you joy and freedom tomorrow.

Heart to Heart by Sarah Tun

Love and God bless to you this week. See you next Thursday... AND:




END NOTE: For those who haven't known me for long, and perhaps for some who have: You might enjoy my other blog:
Life from the Lighthouse -- all about what God shows me when He talks to me and I listen. New posts monthly on the 1st.










My website for the Self Publishing House is www.LarusPress.com where I blog on wholeness, witness, the Word of God and worship & warfare. Larus Press offers Christian-based books, blogs and literature to inspire, encourage, equip and empower your living spirit.
Subscribe to our free newsletter, Soaring Post, with issues every Thursday to equip you for your spiritual walk.

See you next Thursday here at A Life Examined.

Forgiveness - Part 4

Why Forgive?

Forgiveness isn't something that comes easily and it doesn't change the past. So why forgive? Doesn't it let off the person who has done you wrong?

One way to define forgiveness... as defined on an Oprah Winfrey episode, "Giving up the hope that the past could have been any different."

When we think about our pasts, are there any things we wish we could change? Is there any one we blame for the way things are now?

Recognizing our own lack of forgiveness is the start to freeing ourselves from past circumstances we cannot change.

One of the worst moments in my life was something I've alluded to in the headline under the title of this Blog:
My parents disowned me - rejected me at thirty - because I remembered our family history quite differently from how they remembered it. Their rejection hit me like a brick to the side of my head. But I guess it isn't in my DNA to hold a grudge. To be honest, once I got over the shock that they didn't want to see me, life became a little easier... I focused forward and managed the usual life challenges that came along without looking over my shoulder to see who in my family I was disappointing. Of course I would have preferred relationship, but the dysfunction in ours was pretty hampering, so it was a relief to avoid, at least at first. I'm pretty pragmatic.

Then my dad died, suddenly and without warning. He had an aneurysm - he passed out and never regained consciousness. My mother telephoned me to notify me of his funeral. It had been fourteen months since I'd spoken to her. He and I were never reconciled and I grieve that to this day, although the relationship between us was always strained and cool. I suppose the past I grieve more is the lack of relationship, rather than the broken one.

My dad was always distant, and the moments I remember most vividly were moments when he showed affection to our cat and when he showed distrust towards me. Once, when I was nine, the boy next door broke our basement window. When my dad heard the noise he came outside and asked what had happened. I tried to explain to my dad in some detail, but the boy said I'd done the deed and my father believed him. I never held a grudge, but I certainly cried. And it created a deep wound that lasted into my adulthood.

How is it that some people feel hurt and others bitter at injustice? Some of us internalize assault and others lash out, I guess. Or perhaps it just doesn't occur to some of us that we can be anything but a victim, while others harden to their pain and to the one they believe has wronged them. For me, I think it is the compassion I learned when bullied as a child at school that has helped me to understand that all of us are wounded and broken (I had no compassion for my assailants at the time, but plenty for other people who were isolated or unaccepted). I could see the goodness in my father, even if it was pointed at others rather than at me, and in adulthood I excused his lack of emotional warmth as the result of his own damage caused by the war (he was a WWII fighter pilot). For me, forgiveness in these things was never an issue, because I was engrossed in my own pain,trying to survive the shame and low self esteem, so there was no attention on blaming or resenting my father.

I would like to say that I feel deeply as I write this, but I don't. There is regret at what might have been if my father were emotionally available to me, but I'm aware he wasn't  emotionally available to anyone - it wasn't the era for it and even if it were, he suffered post traumatic stress before they had a label for it - and that is something he couldn't change even if he wanted to. In fact, I can't say whether he would have wanted to change anything or not; I didn't know him well enough. But the fact that he couldn't be emotionally whole or available protects me from feeling responsible or hopeful, so perhaps that's why I bear no lack of forgiveness.

And it is because of forgiveness - a total lack of resentment - that I can say he was a good man. He wasn't a good father but I can separate his qualities as a person from his treatment toward me. Facts and detachment may not be as good as relationship, but they are better than blame or harshness.

I forgive my dad for his shortcomings. I forgive my mother for hers. I hope I'll be forgiven for mine by my son in years to come. But the key for me has been to look upon any other person as flawed just as I am, and to avoid building my expectations. In that way I avoid burdening others, avoid my own disappointment and overcome any temptation to hold onto hostility, bitterness or bitterness.

As I bid farewell until next week, I leave you with a pic of my dad - a highly intelligent, deeply wounded man who never had the opportunity that I have had to overcome the past.

Best to you until next Thursday.

Dad

Love and God bless to you this week. See you next Thursday... AND:




END NOTE: For those who haven't known me for long, and perhaps for some who have: You might enjoy my other blog:
Life from the Lighthouse -- all about what God shows me when He talks to me and I listen. New posts monthly on the 1st.










My website for the Self Publishing House is www.LarusPress.com where I blog on wholeness, witness, the Word of God and worship & warfare. Larus Press offers Christian-based books, blogs and literature to inspire, encourage, equip and empower your living spirit.
Subscribe to our free newsletter, Soaring Post, with issues every Thursday to equip you for your spiritual walk.

See you next Thursday here at A Life Examined.

Forgiveness - Part 3

I'm finding this week's post to be most difficult to write, because it draws from responses to last week's that have got me to thinking...

First, I wrote Forgiveness - Part 2 in response to interplay at home (hubby, son and me) that same evening.

Note-to-Self # 1: Give self time between an event and writing, time to process, before writing a blog post (I usually do).

Second, it seems to some (my hubby for one) that I conveyed a belief that all of my son's effervescent displays of affection are self centered or manipulative. However, this isn't what I believe and therefore it wasn't what I intended to convey. Going through the post again, I'm taking a guess at where this notion could have been picked up:

from last week's blog:
"My son is affectionate. It is lovely when he comes to me and says, "I love you Mummy," and spontaneously gives me a hug. But love is not a fuzzy feeling we express when we feel good about ourselves or another person..."

Note-to-Self # 2: Make sure every word needed to convey quite what you mean is included. Instead, I'd like that paragraph now to read: "My son is affectionate. It is lovely when he comes to me and says, "I love you Mummy," and spontaneously gives me a hug. But love is not (only) a fuzzy feeling we express when we feel good about ourselves or another person..." I expect there are other parts to Part 2 that could be amended for clarity's sake, but I'll let it stand because it's a lesson to me to post only once I've had time to process... but now I'm at risk of talking in circles.

A third element that has arisen from last week's post is the idea of forgiving one's children. Is there anything to forgive of a 'blank slate', who is learning and growing (particularly from you!), desperate to please and often making mistakes - not because of lack of desire but rather, a lack of experience or sophistication? In one sense, I think not. Children learn to take responsibility but it is a process. But in another sense I do think it applies. First I'll explain by way of definition:

Note-to-Self # 3: Define words that may have different connotations to different people.

So, what do I mean by forgiveness? For me, forgiveness is accepting the limitations of another person and applying that acceptance to a particular situation.  If I am hurt by another person's conduct, when I choose to forgive them, I do not hold a grudge, become bitter or demand apology, and the fundamental relationship - whatever that was - remains in tact.

Forgiveness doesn't remove consequences for poor behaviour. But whatever consequences may result from a mistake made, that is separate from the relationship itself. Forgiveness also gives me freedom from the negativity that bitterness or unfulfilled expectation brings with it. It doesn't mean I ignore if someone has been deliberately nasty; that is rather an issue of trust and consequence. But it does mean I accept them for who they are. I will have gained wisdom and insight from the experience, and I allow my wounds to heal, not holding them over another person.

So, going back to the initial experience with my son last week, I realize he does sometimes hurt my feelings. Is it ideal that I may sometimes feel hurt by him? Perhaps I'm simply too close to him and so, when he misbehaves toward me, there is some room for him to hurt my feelings. To me, that's probably a bit of a red flag, and I'm practicing detachment because I want to enable my son to grow to be his own person. I am, by far, too much a reactor rather than a responder, and detachment will help me to improve at responding. But I take this notion of hurt feelings as quite separate from forgiveness anyway. If to forgive is to accept limitations, then our children, of all people, require the most.

As I write this post and compose on the topic of forgiveness, I'm aware - as anyone is - that forgiveness is a huge subject. There are so many situations, permutations, that any post will be an over-simplification. In 'the good book', when Peter asks Jesus how many times should he forgive... '7 times?' Jesus replies, '7x7 times', his point being, I think, keep forgiving. So it is in parenting, in marriage, in partnership, in any relationship.

As this post has been chiefly about defining and clarifying, I guess it's also for me to ask forgiveness. I hope you'll forgive me for making a clumsy blunder from time to time, or being ambiguous, or disagreeable. It is not my intention to alarm or offend but to share and to dialogue. I wonder, How do you define Forgiveness?

Cheerio to you 'til next week!

Love and God bless to you this week. See you next Thursday... AND:




END NOTE: For those who haven't known me for long, and perhaps for some who have: You might enjoy my other blog:
Life from the Lighthouse -- all about what God shows me when He talks to me and I listen. New posts monthly on the 1st.










My website for the Self Publishing House is www.LarusPress.com where I blog on wholeness, witness, the Word of God and worship & warfare. Larus Press offers Christian-based books, blogs and literature to inspire, encourage, equip and empower your living spirit.
Subscribe to our free newsletter, Soaring Post, with issues every Thursday to equip you for your spiritual walk.

See you next Thursday here at A Life Examined.

Forgiveness - Part 2

My husband said to our 9 year old son, "You take away other people's happiness," and it's true.
I hadn't realized it until he'd said it, but our son robs others (including me!) of peace and just a general sense of ease and comfort, which I call 'happiness', whenever his mood chooses to do so.

He has a tendency to care very much for a few people and for the rest, he'll reject their overtures of friendship or kindness toward him with disdain, and sometimes even thinks its a joke to do so. I've observed this in him and encouraged him to correct it on different occasions. But until my husband spoke his observation, I hadn't put the two things together.

While I've been quite concerned that this child's temper flairs up with me, I've thought that as he is overly-sensitive and easily discouraged, I gave him room emotionally. But I realize now that the behaviour often has much more to do about sharing his misery so I can feel just as miserable, than his actual discomfort or suffering. Sometimes he does it as an act and thinks it's funny to pretend he's "a little bit annoyed" as a ruse. Act or genuine, I've had quite enough of it.

Which is where forgiveness comes in.

I think mothers, by definition, are concerned they're doing right by their children. Don't we sometimes replay moments with our kids in our minds, and think, "did I do that right?"? We don't want to be unkind, discouraging or unfair. Sometimes that's to the detriment of ourselves.

Realizing my son's been playing me for a fool has made me sad, cross and on the brink of spiteful. I consider the idea of telling him off, or of revoking all pleasures and privileges until he starts to treat other people (starting with me!) with respect and kindness. I think, 'If he treats his mother this way, how will he treat a girlfriend or wife?' and that makes me shudder.

My son is affectionate. It is lovely when he comes to me and says, "I love you Mummy," and spontaneously gives me a hug. But love is not a fuzzy feeling we express when we feel good about ourselves or another person. Love isn't a word we say to make someone else express the warm fuzzy feeling back to us. Love is deeply caring for another as much as (or more than) we care for ourselves.

I know my son loves me. I'm his mother and it's natural that he loves me. But I realize some of his expressions of love have not been sincere at all. I realize that sometimes he shows me affection because it makes him feel good and at least possibly, has nothing to do with me at all. And that hurts. Because whenever I am affectionate toward him, love is pouring out of me toward him that is deep, committed and assuring.

But of course he's 9. He isn't capable of understanding the many layers and permutations of love the way an adult can, though he's going to have to learn or else pity the girl friend or wife. And pity me a little for that matter, because I want our relationship to grow and last into the many years to come.

Now, how do I contribute to his education in this matter? How do I show him (because telling him seems to have no value whatsoever) that love is far more than an expression of affection. How do I teach him he's got to respect and value all others, whether they have something he respects and values or not?

First, getting angry or getting even, however subtle I might do it, isn't going to make him respect me or love me. Imploring isn't going to work either, and trying to control his behaviour won't teach his heart about love. Consequence will help but that isn't enough; I know that B (something he wants to do) must not occur before A (something he must do) happens... thanks for the wonderful book full of sound advice, Kevin Lehman. Your "Have a New Kid By Friday" is a treasure of sound advice.

But what must happen first for our relationship to improve and for our mutual love to deepen, blossom and grow, I believe, is forgiveness. I must forgive him for manipulating me (and forgive myself for my part in allowing him to do so - see previous post!), for taking my happiness many, many times, and love him in spite of his shortcomings.

It's not difficult for me to love my son. I'm discovering there are things about him I don't like, and I'm realizing some truths I am disappointed about, but I deeply love him. Finding the balance between firm parenting and building relationship is something that's difficult for me. I'm a natural verbal communicator, but in this case I'm not going to use words to teach my son about love and respect. And I'm not going to go into reaction mode, tail spinning into punishing him for being manipulative (and I realize that, in main measure, he doesn't even know he's doing it). So how do I deal with his attitude toward me and others? I start by forgiving him. When I've done that fully, I'll be able to see clearly the next step, and I'll let you know how it goes.

Until next Thursday, may your love be available, your lessons few and your forgiveness abounding.

J and Me by Sarah Tun

Love and God bless to you this week. See you next Thursday... AND:




END NOTE: For those who haven't known me for long, and perhaps for some who have: You might enjoy my other blog:
Life from the Lighthouse -- all about what God shows me when He talks to me and I listen. New posts monthly on the 1st.










My website for the Self Publishing House is www.LarusPress.com where I blog on wholeness, witness, the Word of God and worship & warfare. Larus Press offers Christian-based books, blogs and literature to inspire, encourage, equip and empower your living spirit.
Subscribe to our free newsletter, Soaring Post, with issues every Thursday to equip you for your spiritual walk.

See you next Thursday here at A Life Examined.

My "Perfect" Life - part 13

No superstition in me! Part 13 of My "Perfect" Life and I celebrate rather than fear or dread. An attitude toward a situation helps to determine the outcome.... I like the often dreaded number13. My birth date is the 13th of the month and from the first time it was suggested that 13 was a 'bad' number, I chose to relish '13' rather than to fear it. "Otherwise I would never have been born!" I rationalized when I was a child.

My mom was superstitious. Mirrors should not be broken. Luck - good or bad - could be had. I wonder how she felt about my being born on the 13th? Although I don't recall her ever commenting, she must have hated the fact I was born on the13th of the month, because that would have been consistent with her other superstitious fears.

It's funny, but until this moment, I never thought about how her attitude toward me might have been effected by my birth date and her superstitions. Maybe from the outset she was a little bit 'fearful'.

When I was young, my mother said I was 'her' child... as opposed to my sister who was, I surmised, my father's child. My father named my sister, my mother named me. And I guess from the outset, my mother determined to lavish more expectation upon my sister and less control over me. I don't know how my sister felt about the 'arrangement' but certainly I would have benefited from more discipline and less indulgence from my mother. Once in much later years, she admitted she felt guilty for returning to work when I was four (before I started school), and so tried to compensate for the rest of my growing-up years. Parents, it isn't a good idea to soothe your own conscience by spoiling your child. As the old adage says, 'two wrongs don't make a right'.

I'll tell a story revealing the lack of consequence in my life that influenced my teen years.

I was 14. I had been late getting home one evening and my mother grounded me for a week. I had never been grounded before. On day six however, when there was a school dance which, according to the rules of begin grounded, I would have to miss, I pleaded to attend. I am sure I was 'hard work' - persistent, whining, generally irritating and spoiled. My mother relented and let me go. What a pity: just when the opportunity to learn approached, when a real desire would not satisfied and I might have had some real thinking time about how my behaviour or attitude toward my mother needed to change, she didn't have the strength to resist my pleas and lifted the ban on extra curricular. As far as I can recall, being grounded had no real consequence. Perhaps she felt tortured by my pleas or by her guilt at creating an 'unbearable consequence' for me in the first place. She never grounded me again, I do know that. And from that time onward, I was consistently disrespectful of time. By age 18, I had no regard for curfew - other than to 'feel guilty' if I didn't get home on time. There were a few evenings when I was late enough to have kept her up. Once I recall being jolted at the fact she was waiting up, sitting in her wing chair in the living room, very cross that I was home after 1am. I had the audacity to be angry at her, and had no shame or consideration for her feelings at all.

Whose fault was that? Now, as a parent myself, I'd say it was the parent's for not teaching the child in the first place, about respect for rules and the person who makes them. Of course I don't blame my mother, because she tried her best to navigate parenthood and my tempestuous and inconsiderate behaviour. As an adult, I alone am responsible for my attitudes and behaviour. It's just unfortunate that I didn't share with her the fact that I learned - eventually - how to appreciate her.

As I reflect on this, of course I have regret for my lack of consideration. While this is only one aspect of my complex relationship with my mother, it is an important one. I loved my mother dearly, and I'm certain she loved me. But neither of us seemed to know enough about love to know how to show it.

Parenthood and growing up are difficult. Building relationship is no easy task. Love helps, fear damages, guilt is useless. That is the perspective I have now. If there is any wisdom in this reflection, I hope it may inspire other parents and off-spring. If there is a life-inspiring comment I can close with it is this:

'Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will depart from it.' This is a wise adage from Ecclesiastes in the Bible. It has proven to be true time and again.

Are there moments that you remember from your past that seemed to influence dynamics in your family?

Best wishes for your relationships this week.

My "Perfect" Life - Part 4

Sibling rivalry is bound up in disappointment. I was never disappointed by my sibling, so I never felt to rival her.

She was brainy and I admired her for it. I remember her reading one high school course for fun whilst studying another for credit. She read fiction voraciously. And sometimes she would recount to me lots of history I would otherwise never have learned. I learned more about Hitler and Russian and British history from her than from text books. I loved listening to her and I learned a lot. I wish some of those golden moments could have been kept in a bottle, because decades later, I have only memories. Our dysfunctional family has produced a gulf between these two sisters that only a miracle can close. I hope, one day, a miracle will come to pass.

My sister and I used to fight a lot. My mother, herself an only child, didn't seem to have any equipment in her mothering 'toolkit' to help us get along or to 'like' each other. Actually, I adored my sister.  Playing Sound of Music together was a favourite pastime for me - she sang the Maria parts and I played the sixteen year old girl to her Rolf. But I wonder if these play times meant as much to her? While most siblings grow up and get to share their memories and compare their perspectives, we have not.

I was four years her junior and labelled a pest. I liked to hang around when her friends were over, which she didn't like. I couldn't take a hint and was irritating I suppose. But I liked her friends, and admired her. I could have listened to her endlessly. Once I found her journal - she must have been in university by then. I only looked inside briefly but what I found was truly awesome! She wrote prose as though it were poetry; her reflections were intimate and beautifully composed. I only peeked as I knew it was wrong, but if I could have read her work I'd have soaked up every word.

I wouldn't say I lived in her shadow, though I admired her for her brilliance. Instead, by comparison, I was a more outgoing teenager to her quiet, introverted personality -- I dated a fair bit, was a bit sporty, acted in plays. By the time I grew up, I had mostly outgrown my interest in spending time with her. We had little in common except a last name. I would have liked to have been closer, but we were so different, I didn't really know how to befriend her. We were disconnected, but in spite of that, my respect for her never waned. Now, this sad comfort is all I have to offer a sister who wants nothing to do with me.

What do you do when someone you love but don't really know says she wants to live her life without you in it? What can you do? You can pray for change. You can try to reach out. But inevitably, I believe you must respect her wishes. Whatever the reason she may have, it is what she's said she wants. And a relationship without respect is no relationship at all.

Two decades since my sister said she wants me to have no part of her life, every indication suggests she has not budged in her attitude.

When I read stories of twins, who were separated at birth but in middle age are suddenly reunited, I think of my sister and I and wish we could have a happy ending. When I think of foster children forced to be raised in different households, longing for their siblings but remaining alone, I think how ungrateful we have been to have grown so far apart. And I think of my mother who had wanted a sister but had grown up an only child, and how she must have been devastated by the rift between her two daughters. Yet, out of respect, I continue to do nothing, because I want to honour my sister and don't know what else to do but to obey her wishes to stay out of her life.

I am sorry for the rift. I am sorry for my part in it. But I am unable to provoke change.

I'd like to end this excerpt on a cheery note. I can say I've seen my sister at a distance a few times quite unexpectedly, and I'm glad. I'm thankful for the opportunity to have seen her, to see that she is content. I wonder if a birth parent of an adopted child might feel a little as I have - watching without the other person even knowing she's there. I haven't approached my sister because I don't want to upset her; perhaps I give myself too much importance. Or perhaps I failed to recognize when we were young that I was important to her at all.

I wonder too, if she has had similar encounters with me - from a distance, without my awareness. And if so, I hope she is comforted.

Have you experienced a separation from someone you love but from whom you are now estranged? If so, how have you coped?

I'll write again next Thursday, sharing another glimpse into my past, hoping to spark something in you that invites your reflection too.

My "Perfect" Life - Part 2

Intimacy is a word that sparks in me a feeling of being hugged and the experience of eye contact. The family home in which I grew up was decent and respectable to the outside world, but we were not intimate. It was a time when fathers were the breadwinners, and were responsible as role models. I suspect ours was more-or-less the norm. At least to the outside world we were a typical WASP household, where fathers were detached entities to be respected, feared and obeyed.

My father fought in World War II as a fighter pilot. I know nothing of his experiences. He never spoke about it himself. Second and third hand, through my mother and a first cousin: my father's sister's daughter, I've learned a little about how the war affected him. After the war, my father spent time with his sister 'recuperating' emotionally. Evidently, he had nightmares. Later, when he attempted to finish his law degree and write the Bar exam, he was too war-torn to manage it. He either didn't write the exam or flunked out.
Apparently, my father was a brilliant orator and law student never to have his dreams realized. I say 'apparently' because he never spoke to me about himself. My mother did a bit, but she wasn't the most reliable source of information as she was prone to exaggeration and embellishment. But it's safe to say he did leave law school to volunteer for the war effort a year before finishing, and he never practiced the Law. He'd been valedictorian of his undergraduate class and his yearbook says words to the affect: 'If this boy doesn't make a significant contribution to society there is no justice in the world.' Some time after his death, I found the yearbook when I was in my 30's. Upon discovering that comment, I felt proud for my dad.
His failure to complete Law was not only a personal tragedy but also indicative of the losses to society. This man - like so many others - put his own life 'on hold' to do what he felt was his duty, never to fulfill his goals or purpose.


The story I'll use to introduce my remote and harsh father is third hand. It's the only story I have about him as a child, but it gives me the impression that my dad was a sensitive and loving child. It is a story I'll call 'Sweet Kittens'. A cousin told me the story, which in itself tells you a lot about the lack of intimacy in my immediate family.

When my dad was little - maybe about five - the family cat had kittens. The family was never well-off.... (One reason my dad didn't finish law school was because he had to put himself through university and then law school; I don't know how he managed undergrad but by the time he got to law school he had to work a year, then study for a year, then work for a year... back and forth like that. By the time he was to study his last year the war was full-on and he felt he should wait no longer but go to fight...) ... the kittens were important to my dad. He played intently with them. But at some point, perhaps when they'd grown and needed solid food, or perhaps sooner when it was realized no one else would take the kittens, they were put in a sack and drowned. My father watched, helpless, and then he ran off, crying, devastated. I highlight in the story that he appeared to be alone in his grief. His older sisters and parents, it seemed, were unconsoling. A younger brother wasn't yet born.

Growing up in our house, we always had a cat. The third family cat is the only one I remember. I was three years old when we got him and he lived for ten years. He was wonderful! My dad was affectionate toward Boots and spoke words of affirmation to him. Boots lived a high life of soft cat food, roast beef and ice cream. When my dad would nap on the sofa, Boots curled up next to him. Dad flattered Boots. 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever' Dad would quote. Then he'd reach down and pat the cat and say, "Eh Boots." My mother looked on as the cat received open affection. The words of affirmation and displays of affection my dad showed toward the cat are the indications I interpret as the potential my dad had for displaying love.
When Boots died of natural causes, it was my father who found him. He took his body away for disposal and we never had another family cat. I don't remember my dad speaking about Boots or his death after that.

I admire my father in many ways. Now I choose to look upon our distant relationship as a tragedy that was rooted in his experience of war and having no acknowledgement or treatment for the effects.

While this post may seem bleak, it is not intended to be so. Some of life's events and relationships can be disappointing, how we take our experiences and make them channels for strength and learning are up to us. I believe every experience makes us stronger, healthier, more compassionate individuals, able to offer to the world insight and hope.

Have you family memories that this story triggers in you? I'd love to hear from you - about your family, or your thoughts about mine. And I'll bring a third installment of My "Perfect" Life next THURSDAY.

My "Perfect" Life

Imagine a perfect world in which to grow up: it is an idyllic world where your physical needs are provided. You never go hungry, have attractive clothes to wear and your mother and father are married and seem to love each other. You know from an early age that education is important and that whatever post secondary education you will desire will be made available. The country is Canada, where the true north is indeed 'strong and free'. Your world encourages freedom of speech, religion and politics.

Now imagine such a world where there is no sense of being loved, of belonging, or of being taken seriously. Suddenly, you are in the world in which I grew up. Children are to be seen and not heard, integrity is only expected in the adult world, and behavior is criticized but never corrected.

I loved my parents, now both deceased. I loved them enough never to have composed the stream of thought I'll compose here because it would have angered them. Interesting I don't say 'it would hurt them.' I would not write if it would hurt them either, but I'm not sure it is possible I ever hurt them. I'm not sure they liked me enough to be hurt. Rather, they disliked me enough to get angry with me.

In my head are many random stories. Each of them are true. How do I compile a series of vignettes that will best encapsulate my family history? And why do I do it? These are the questions I must ask myself as a writer.

As this is a blog, I think I'll provide one story at a time, randomly at first. Perhaps something will begin to take shape and from that I'll design a more structured approach.

As to why I do it? It seems fitting to write about my life given I've entitled this blog "A Life Examined". I'm aware as I write now that my tone is a bit clipped and my mood remote. Perhaps I'm a bit nervous about writing to the world; perhaps I'm a bit anxious I'll fail. I know I'm not angry with my parents or my sister. I'm just wary of what I'm about to do... to share my journey in order to capture another's interest.


The first story has just two characters, my mother and me. It isn't even a story really, but a moment in time. It begins with my mother raising her hand to me and stopping. I was about 9. I remember I'd done something wrong - I don't know what but I'm certain I knew at the time - and she was really cross. She raised her hand and our eyes met. I was scared she was going to hit me and that fear must have been written all over my face. She looked at me, her hand suspended in the air and said, "Some day I'm going to hit you." (she never had up to that point, that I can remember, nor ever did)

The moment passed. I guess she walked away. There was no hit, but no hug either. No physical contact of any kind.

I was not punished for whatever I'd done. I expect she showed compassion, or tried to, by not spanking me. But she didn't teach me, correct me or help me to learn from whatever I'd done that I shouldn't have done it. Interesting that I remember the moment of eye contact and fear, but not what I'd done to cause her anger. Was it good for me as a child, to live in a house where my mother never spanked me? Certainly to have no consequence for bad behaviour was not ideal.

It was the '60's and Dr Spock and such teaching was that you should not spank a child and a child will work things out for themselves. Well, I didn't. Perhaps others did.

It's stories like this that I'll write about. It's stories like this that make me feel sad about how I grew up: completely disjointed from my mother, who lacked confidence, and from my father, who was emotionally shut down.

I grew up in one of the biggest houses on the street, with educated parents and a very brainy sister. I had music lessons and at 6, when I had trouble with reading, my mom helped me until I could read. But inside myself I was alone, lonely and torn between over confidence and under confidence, because I felt no love.

I have love now in my own family. I'm very blessed. And I'm grateful for my history, because it's made me who I am now. But every little experience as a child has the potential to bear significant impact on life as a whole. Perhaps I'm writing to help you to tap into your memories, to see how they've impacted you - for better or worse - and to help you to grow beyond them. Perhaps I'm writing to parents who struggle with parenting, or to siblings who struggle with sibling relationships. Perhaps I'm writing to daughters and sons who have parents who are aging and there is unsettled business between them. Whoever I'm writing to, I'm hoping my words will be read, and the words will help to make our relationships better, while we are still on the earth. I shall write again next Thursday. (Is it Thursday's child that's full of woe??)

me, sitting in my back garden

Attitude First

Attitude First – on Parenting:

After school this evening I watched as my son engaged with other boys during his sports practice.

He was excited! So he mostly forgot his determination in the sport and focused instead on entertaining and being entertained.

On the one hand I felt sorry for him... Clearly he was so excited that it was obvious to me he’d missed the social aspect of relating to peers up until now and so was enjoying connecting with others. It was a shame to have to call him on his behaviour.

But on the other hand I was annoyed because he was acting silly, and trying the patience of his coach and wasting valuable skill development time.

After practice, I had to tell him off – gently but firmly – and attempted to convey to him that the sport comes first, then the social interaction.

But given my husband and I have been insisting lately that he look at people who say ‘hi’ to him and respond to them, it seems contrary to scold him now for engaging.

Except that he’d engaged when he should have been paying better attention to the coach and had lost track (somewhat, not totally) of the reason he was in the gym in the first place.

So, as a parent, when you understand the heart of your child yet you see his behaviour is counter-productive, what do you do?

Recently, another parent observed her children and scolded one for his lacklustre behaviour toward his sister. She kind of laughed at herself in the midst of it and said,

“I’m just winging it!”

“Aren’t we all?” was my response.

Aren’t we all!

We do our best. We understand their hearts, observe their behaviours and have to make a call as to whether to show sympathy or to steer them toward maturity. Sometimes it means distancing ourselves from them emotionally. When we are detached it allows the child the privacy to work out his own feelings and to be more independent.

Personally, I find this tough. I find it hard to see my kid disappointed when a few moments earlier he was so elated. But then I remember that what must come first is Attitude.

If his attitude to his responsibility is right, discipline and responsibility will become second nature. Social stuff is really important too, but it has to come somewhere down the list. Otherwise I figure he’ll get tossed to and fro depending on other people’s agendas and interests. I want him comfortable with others, but first I want to see him behaving responsibly and showing self-respect.

When I’m feeling sad for the little guy, or concerned I might be making a mistake, or just feel completely out of my depth as a parent, I pray. God knows my son better than I do and He helps me to steer the path or leads me to sound advice.

Sometimes I wing it, just like my friend. Love, commitment and doing the best I can goes a long way. And there’s nothing quite so affirming as your own kid saying,

“I love you SOO much,” or “You’re the BEST mommy in the world!” even when you are sure you’re not!

But the best advice and encouragement I can think of comes from Proverbs 22:

“Train a child in the way he should go and when he grows up he will not depart from it.”

We do our best. Sometimes we just have to ‘wing it!’ But it’s a wonderful comfort and huge encouragement to know we’ve got our own Father who sees us, knows our hearts, hears our prayers and sends help when we ask... even if that help is an innovative way of disciplining the child or giving us the courage to detach.

Parenting is the most humbling and rewarding experience I can imagine. When duty calls we must step up to the plate. But we can rest assured that, when we teach our children to have an attitude of self respect and respect for others, they will grow up with self esteem and confidence. Then their social lives will be healthy and rewarding.

Attitude first, the rest will follow.