Type A Love
My dad was born in 1958. He grew up in a time that was simple yet very different than I faced when growing up in the 80s. At the young age of nine, my dad had his first paper route and bicycled his way through neighborhoods that were not the safest. Children had to grow up quickly and were not coddled as much as our current generation. I was only nine-months-old when his dad (my grandfather) passed away, but he was a former navy officer and always showed “tough love” to my dad, which meant there were certain expectations in regards to my dad’s behavior. He didn’t always meet the demands set by his militant father, and at times he rebelled. Whether it was skipping school or socializing with a bad crowd, there was always one constant—he always had the love of his parents, even when he failed to obey.
Later in my childhood, my parents were more protective of my brother and I but continued to display tough love. We also faced expectations in regards to behavior as well as certain obligations around the house (i.e. chores)—much more than most kids today. We were always taught, “Don’t speak unless spoken to,” and questioning of authority was always answered with “Because I said so!” Much like his father, my dad demanded obedience and was quick to anger when we strayed from the rules. And while my brother and I didn’t appreciate discipline at the time, we always knew his instruction was based on love. Thankfully, my brother and I were often rewarded with trips to the local bakery or even gifted with the newest Nintendo game when we complied.
I will never forget one time I was riding my bicycle and attempted a “wheelie” in the carport and unfortunately crashed into some sheetrock that was laying against the wall.
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I instantly knew that I would be punished and cried to my mom explaining what had happened. I could already hear my dad’s voice in my head saying, “How could you do that, this was expensive, and why were you riding in the carport?” After emotionally punishing myself, my dad finally came home after work and explained to me that the sheetrock was actually waste from a recent job. Wait, what? I had spent the better part of the day imagining how long I would be grounded from talking to my friends, and my dad lovingly forgave me! To this day, I don’t know if he was lying because my mom told him I had already punished myself through worry, but either way, I learned that no matter when I messed up, I would always have their love and forgiveness.
Fast-forward to my role as a parent, my husband and I were blessed to have a daughter after years of struggling to conceive.
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We never take her for granted, but we are probably even more protective of her than our parents were with us. Once you have faced the risk of never having children, we have always strived to do our best to protect God’s special gift he entrusted to us. We often joke about our defensive parenting style in that our daughter wants for nothing, but we also understand that is not the correct approach for raising a child to be an independent Christian adult. I frequently lose my temper with her, mostly because we share many Type A traits, but at the end of any chastisement,
I always tell her how much I love her and the reasoning for correction. We have always taught her that God requires us to discipline her through love.
And because I know she will model my behavior someday when she becomes a mother, I am trying to learn how to control my anger when her behavior is defiant.
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The one similarity in our three generations is that our families have always been followers of Christ.
Although my grandfather was quick to discipline my dad, he ensured church was a priority.
In the same way, my parents also encouraged not only attending church but also ‘being’ the church. We were always taught to love God first and then love others as commanded by Jesus (Mark 12:30-31). I consistently saw my parents take food to those who were ill or helping out a neighbor in a time of need just as they had witnessed their parents do the same. My parents taught us to love everyone no matter the color of their skin, the brand of their blue jeans, or the make of their car.
I try to imitate my parents in teaching our daughter to love all of God’s people, even those who do not accept or return that same love.
The book of Luke tells us to “love [our] enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and [our] reward will be great…” (6:35). While our eleven-year-old daughter understands the need to be bold in her faith, she has had trouble in understanding why some of her friends are already making poor choices. This is often a conversation we have with her in explaining how to love the person and not the sin, which is why we stress tough love when she disobeys and has to endure consequences.
