“A father is a man who expects his children to be as good as he meant to be.” – Carol Coats
Like many, perhaps most, of you, as a parent I’ve tried to compensate for the ways in which I felt that my parents could have done . . . “better.”
My parents led mostly through example—and powerful as that can be, as a kid those messages are often too subtle to be noticed, much less appreciated. Indeed, my dad was a man of few words—spoken words, anyway.
At 6’ 5” he was an imposing figure, all the more from the pulpit from which he did speak. He was a good speaker, but not a natural one. A minister, he worked hard at it, studied his subject matter, practiced his presentation relentlessly, each and every week. I always thought it amazing that such a quiet, introverted man would choose that career—but, and though it can’t have been easy, it was something he felt called to do at an early age. He had opinions, but didn’t impose them on others. Indeed, it was difficult (and sometimes frustrating) to wrest opinions from him. Significantly, he walked his “talk”—his faith, his love and respect for all people, even those with whom he disagreed—and those were attributes in short supply, even then. But this quiet “giant” found his true gift in writing—and in the process extended his influence and his ministry well beyond a single congregation. And yes, gentle reader no one was more thrilled than Dad to see THIS son “stumble” into writing for a career, albeit with a different focus.For all that fine example, I didn’t learn anything about finance from my dad—he avoided big purchases with the fervor of Ebenezer Scrooge, though he’d spend that much (and more) on small things (mostly books, much to my mother’s chagrin). Like many in his generation, my dad wanted to “hold” the checkbook, but it was Mom who always made sure that there was money in the account. And while Dad tithed “biblically,” Mom was the one who started setting aside money from her paycheck in her 403(b) plan at work—and continued to do so, even when my father was convinced they couldn’t afford it—and made no secret of THAT opinion. Or did until he got a glimpse of the statement that showed Mom’s retirement account growth—and then, inspired by that example—he began setting money aside for retirement as well.
His impact on me, and my life notwithstanding, I’m a different person than my dad, though his example is never very far from my thoughts. As a parent, I’ve tried to share with my kids the lessons I’ve learned (and continue to learn), tried to spare them the pain that came with many of those (though some I still can’t bear to admit aloud), but also tried to give them the room they need—and deserve—to learn their own on the life path(s) they chose—though that’s a life lesson of its own, and one with which I still sometimes struggle.
That said, I’ve tried to be more expressive in my love for them, and pride in their accomplishments, and more vocal in my support when they’re going through the inevitable “rough” patches of life. Tried to provide more direction, without imposing my decisions—tried to share with them some sense of money, and its management, the thrill of having work that gives you joy (even if the where and who you do it with don’t always), the importance of having the right partner in life…
Sometimes we follow in our parents’ footsteps—and sometimes we go a different way. But here’s hoping that the footprints we leave along the way—intentional and unintended—make other’s lives…better.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
- Nevin E. Adams, JD
No comments:
Post a Comment