Lessons from My Father...

Recently our youngest has discovered the timelessness of The Andy Griffith Show. I think some one could write a parenting how-to book when you watch the episodes with Opie. I have often said that Andy reminds of my father. 

First of all, my dad wore those same side zipper half boot shoe things when I was little just like Andy. They shared similar mannerisms but for me they share the same parenting philosophy. Tonight I was watching this episode with Ben and was reminded of a similar moment with dad. I was in middle school and came home with my first not-so-great grade. I think I was more upset about it than he was. When I showed him my report card, he didn't yell or criticize. He just very calmly asked, "Did you do your best?" I think the question caught me off guard.

This episode reminded me of that day...

A Childhood Love...

Ward Motel

When I was a little girl, I can remember packing up the car and driving for what felt like hours to the beach. (It was only an hour away) Our little Honda hatchback would be loaded down with everything but the kitchen sink. I have a vivid memory of this yellow float with the Hawaiian punch character on it. Add that to my flaming red hair and you would not be able to miss me on the beach!

This past weekend we loaded up our van and headed down to Florida to watch one of my nephews get married at Cocoa Beach. This is the kid I used to babysit in high school so I am feeling a wee bit old as I ponder the reality that he is old enough to be married. :-) All week long our family was chatting on Facebook about all of being together minus one. He would be in Afghanistan serving our country. This soldier is on of three brothers; he is also a twin. To make matters worse this would be the second wedding he has had to miss because, yes you guessed it, he was serving our country then as well. I will share more on this part of the story later but I must return to my original point.

The beach has always been a place I love. Tons of childhood memories spill over. We were there every summer. It was one of those times where all seven of us would get together. I am 8-16 younger than the rest of my siblings so often Mom and I would go to the beach and every one else would come in and stay between work or school. I wonder if my parents were that intentioned or did it just spill over. We were together, all of us and it was great. I am thankful that we are so close. I know that time well spent layed the foundation for what we reap now...a deep sense of family.

My grandfather owned a motel on New Symrna Beach, Florida way back when. As I was thinking about this I thought I'd google the name just for kicks and what do you know? I found a place that sells his old postcards.

Road side view



For our family, this story has such a personal meaning. This was one of my father's favorite movies. The ending would always bring a tear to his eye...maybe because he could relate to George Bailey. Tonight,on Christmas Eve, we will all pile on the floor and watch. When I get to the end I bawl like a baby...mostly remembering my father and his "George Bailey" story but also enjoying the simplicity and truth of this wonderful story.

Merry Christmas!

Lessons from my Father...

It has been over a decade since I have seen my father. I think of him during the quiet moments of my life. He is sitting in his favorite chair with a book or Bible in his hand reading. He did most of his parenting (with me anyways) from that chair. Planting seeds, offering words of wisdom to digest. The best example I can give is that he reminded me of Andy Griffith...right down to those same half boots that zipped on the side.:-)

As a child I would often tease that I'd rather take the spankings than have my father speak with me about something I did wrong. The spanking would be over quickly but his words would linger and cause me to think about not only what I had done but also the consequences thereafter. He never yelled (or at least I have no memory of it). He just spoke words of wisdom...no long lectures just simple and to the point. He didn't hover. In fact quite the opposite. He allowed us to explore and even stumble some times because I think he knew that stumbling is where our greatest lessons would come from.

I can recall (as a teenager) telling my dad that I wanted to quit church choir. My mom was upset but allowed my father to the one to speak with me. He sat in his chair and I in mine. He cleared his throat. He always did that before beginning to talk with me. Then he began to speak. "Your mother tells me that you want to quit singing in the choir." I responded by laying out, what I was sure were, profound reasons for wanting to quit and he sat just listening. He never looked angry. Nor did he raise his voice but when it was his turn to speak I fell silent. All he said was that it wasn't about whether I wanted to quit. More importantly what was I choosing in its place. Was it good and noble? Or was it frivolous and flighty? Yes his words were nothing short of convicting. He was teaching and whether I wanted to or not I was learning.

After all these years, I am thankful for that.

Lessons from my Father...

I have been contemplating adding a new "feature" to my blog but always seem to put it off for another day. So here in the quiet of an evening, itunes playing, I have decided to put my thoughts on virtual paper.

Education is an atmosphere

I don't think I truly understood how true that is. Nor did I appreciate how my parents raised me to be in constant pursuit of knowledge. I have so many memories of my father sitting in his chair with a book or with his Bible silently living out his beliefs right in front of me. This unit we are reading Alice in Wonderland and I can not help but think of one summer and his gentle guidance for me. Being a typical child, I wasn't too concerned with the how I spent my hours and so much of it was blindly wasted in front of the TV. One afternoon my father called me in to his office. At that time he had a built-in bookshelf filled with books behind his desk. There he sat behind his desk surrounded by literature. It is here that one of my life lessons began. In his calm way, he passed me a gold hardback copy of Alice in Wonderland and asked that I read it. He began to talk to me about the quality of what fills my time. Am I spending it doing something of value, something noble, something good? Or am I just allowing myself to be a passive participant in the gift of time God has given me?

Of course being young, I listened and even stored it away under "all the things my father tried to teach me but I'm not going to pay too much attention to right now." I am thirty-something years old and his words of wisdom still ring in my ears. There was no yelling. There was no "Shelley, you are wasting your life." Just a simple gesture to open my eyes to see that there is more to life than just being lazy. So how does all this tie in to the quote by Charlotte Mason, (Education is an atmosphere)? "The child breaths the atmosphere emanating from his parents that of the ideas which rule their own lives." volume 2