I find it odd. I can still remember things my father and mother said to me nearly 30 years ago. I look back and realize that my folks probably had no idea I was really listening so very carefully–that their words would take hold and somehow define my will, and thereby make me who I am. I bound those words around my neck; wrote them on the tablet of my heart. I’m not sure my sisters listened in the same way I did. Probably. Who knows? I was always pretty sure my friends and classmates didn’t have fathers like mine. I always assumed they were deprived, but now I’m not so certain. Maybe they had great parents, but they just didn’t listen to them?
I believe it was easier for me than it was for most people. The words matched the actions. My parents practiced what they preached. It wasn’t arbitrary; it was consistent. I saw it lived out, and it was in-line with the teachings of scripture, reinforced by church and school. I wasn’t brainwashed–I was formed, molded, modeled.
Are my children listening to me in the same way that I listened to my parents? Will they remember the things my wife and I say and do?