The title of this blog is misleading. I'd like to think that we can't really hate our parents. And there is some context to this. Take note of this scripture in Luke 14:26
If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.
Of course further context is given once we inspect the footnotes referencing "hate" to Matthew 10:37-
He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.
It becomes obvious then what "hate" really means. As I write these thoughts that came to me as an epiphany after a year of trying to figure out something that was amiss, I hope that I can shed some light as to what I am trying to say here because I am organizing my thoughts as I go. The thing about some 'aha' moments for me is that sometimes an understanding of what perplexed me will come as a complex whole and I have to somehow pick at that fertile vision to understand its components so I can see how it affects my circumstances.
I am an Asian parent with a strong desire to mold and shape my children into what I think they need to be. It's ingrained in my DNA and culture--though I am not sure that this is cultural. I am certain that part of the nature of being a responsible parent is to fulfill that role. The responsibility is a sobering one especially for us as Latter-day Saints. But inextricably mixed into that mantra are variables that affect our own expectations that give shape to that proverbial mold--culture, socio-economic strata, education, caste, religion, experience, intelligence, circumstances, geographic regions and even trauma.
The scriptures tell us that we are to raise our children in the ways of truth and righteousness. Under perfect circumstances our goal is to know the mind and will of the Father at all times. Thus the mold we use is not one of our own choosing or make but the one that not just resembles God but is identical. Unfortunately, our "mortal-ness" often enough does not allow for that clarity. Therein lies the rub and raising children as well as being raised by parents become a complex dance of choices, perspective and hopefully, elegant execution. And more often than we would like, it can also be an ugly chaos made up of bad choices, unhealthy and skewed outlooks on life, broken relationships and isolation.
As parents, we are locked into that responsibility and duty to raise our children the best way we know how and often, despite the notion that we are educated and well-informed, our efforts will always be lacking. Nevertheless, we have no recourse but to do our best.
As we stumble through the process of parenting, it is inevitable that we have our own expectations that our children have to meet. Often, as in my case, expectations are related to our own inability to reach our own parents' expectations as well as our own expectations. The alternative is impossible and tragic. Not to have any expectations is impossible--positive or negative they may be. Expectations are ingrained in our own make-up.
The attention we give our children comes with a host of these expectations and haplessly, in my zeal to expect my own grade of excellence, these expectations can result in an enormous amount of pressure on my children. To combat and survive these pressures, children will often develop armours to guard against them. The armour they build around them protect them from their parents' disappointments for not reaching their daily 'quota' of good deeds or accomplishments, as well guilt and lack of confidence. Often the armour they use is anger. Or withdrawal. Or a compulsive need to do the opposite of what's expected. To rebel. And sadly, though the target of these aggressions or reactions are the parents, the ones who receive the most damage are the children themselves. Because most of their energy go into this resistance, children often feel confused--even empty. This sort of reaction, this armour is called a 'false self'--a personality that is developed to deal with a parents excessive expectations or even too little expectations. And oftentimes, this 'false self' will spill into other facets of their lives.
This phenomenon is universal in the western world. If this is so, how do we gain a balance so that our children can be raised without this pressure? And how do we gauge that from child to child when every child in the family is different? If there an answer to this? If this pressure is built into the ties that bind parents to their children and vice-versa, is it a losing proposition? Are we just supposed to rearrange the deck chairs in the Titanic?
I am a mother AND a daughter myself and as I ponder these observations, I am calmed by the knowledge that Christ has descended below all things. Yes, even below these pressure-cooker, nitro-glycerin packed relationships. He understands me from both angles--from the standpoint of a daughter who cannot satisfy her parents expectations, who feels like a failure and who still does not know what to be when she grows up. And He understands me from the standpoint of a mother who has devoted her time, energy and talents into raising four children and feels woefully guilty about her errors, omissions and poorly, lacking execution of parenting good sense.
At some point, as a daughter, it is my responsibility and choice to see my mother as an individual with hopes, dreams and a tremendous sense of responsibility. My mother can feel pain and guilt about her own lacks and mistakes. She also feels a great sense of loss that she seems to be so dismally incapable of improving her relationship with her children simply because she does not have the tools or wherewithal to do so. And I forgive her and appreciate her. And I know she did the best she could. Her very, very best. And I love her for it. There is much choice in this matter. I can now choose to disarm myself from all those pressures and become more at peace with myself forgiving myself for being so hard and blaming my parents. Most of all, I can choose to align myself with their expectations and realize that they existed solely because they are part of the nature of being parents. These are choices I can make and I can release myself from the shackles of these expectations and attempt to rise above them because achieving excellence is not a bad thing after all.
As a mother, I am beset with guilt over my own errors and irrational expectations---that I can hold my children hostage to all those demands. What can I do to appease the demands of my conscience? There is not much within my control because my peace has to come only from my own children's forgiveness, love and acceptance; and hopefully, appreciation. And it flows that way. It has to.
My father once visited me in a dream. He said to me, "Christie, I have something very important to tell you. Remember that what you do here on earth affects me here in the Spirit World."
I thought that this notion was a novel one and so I asked him, "Papa, how do I know that it's you and not me dreaming this?"
Then he said, "I am going to tell you a joke, that's how!"
He then proceeded to tell me a joke that unfortunately, I cannot quite translate into English because the joke will be lost. But the important point is that it is the exact kind of joke that only my father could have invented. I laughed so hard in my dream. And I woke up laughing. And I knew he had been with me.
Whatever I do affects my father who has now passed on for over 20 years. I believe that my forgiveness and love does affect him where he's at. And I do love him ever so much.
Unfortunately, because it goes this direction, I pray that my children will make kind choices regarding their mother and most especially, that they can understand how this phenomenon works so they can be at an advantage. Knowledge is a powerful tool and this understanding is what I can give them. This is why I write. Because what I wish is that they will carry on knowing that these expectations are inextricably woven into the fibers of parenthood and as they reach the level of maturity where they can be forgiving and kind, they can free themselves from the shackles of the pressure that comes with expectations. Unfortunately, these types of wisdom and understanding that comes not just by experience but by careful study, ruminating, assessing, contemplation and yes, personal revelation cannot be bequeathed to generations to come except by articulation. Every generation has to start over. At times realizations of this sort come by some divine serendipity.And thus, I write.
I hope that they can realize that they can be themselves without penalty of disappointment whether it be from their parents or themselves. The way we see the world is a choice that we make and that includes the way we can forgive our parents for having too much expectations that we can handle or too little that we need. I hope that the desire to know themselves more deeply through their parents can be magnified WITHOUT the experience of estrangement because all too frequently, we only realize the value of something when it is gone.
Finally, one never really knows what selfishness is without the experience of having children. There is order in this knowledge. And a calm reassurance in the knowledge that as my children have their own children, they will hopefully appreciate this phenomenon that I have described. And that as their own expectations are formed as they raise and mold their own children, they can perhaps find a better balance than I ever could have accomplished. But I am almost certain that there will be a point as they ponder that delicate balance when they will remember their mother and how much I love them....and how my dreams and hopes for their future were, after all, despite my many imperfections borne out of the same deep and abiding love that they now feel for their own children. And then they can remember me kindly. And so it goes. And on and on, worlds without end.
The scriptures tell us that we are to raise our children in the ways of truth and righteousness. Under perfect circumstances our goal is to know the mind and will of the Father at all times. Thus the mold we use is not one of our own choosing or make but the one that not just resembles God but is identical. Unfortunately, our "mortal-ness" often enough does not allow for that clarity. Therein lies the rub and raising children as well as being raised by parents become a complex dance of choices, perspective and hopefully, elegant execution. And more often than we would like, it can also be an ugly chaos made up of bad choices, unhealthy and skewed outlooks on life, broken relationships and isolation.
As parents, we are locked into that responsibility and duty to raise our children the best way we know how and often, despite the notion that we are educated and well-informed, our efforts will always be lacking. Nevertheless, we have no recourse but to do our best.
As we stumble through the process of parenting, it is inevitable that we have our own expectations that our children have to meet. Often, as in my case, expectations are related to our own inability to reach our own parents' expectations as well as our own expectations. The alternative is impossible and tragic. Not to have any expectations is impossible--positive or negative they may be. Expectations are ingrained in our own make-up.
The attention we give our children comes with a host of these expectations and haplessly, in my zeal to expect my own grade of excellence, these expectations can result in an enormous amount of pressure on my children. To combat and survive these pressures, children will often develop armours to guard against them. The armour they build around them protect them from their parents' disappointments for not reaching their daily 'quota' of good deeds or accomplishments, as well guilt and lack of confidence. Often the armour they use is anger. Or withdrawal. Or a compulsive need to do the opposite of what's expected. To rebel. And sadly, though the target of these aggressions or reactions are the parents, the ones who receive the most damage are the children themselves. Because most of their energy go into this resistance, children often feel confused--even empty. This sort of reaction, this armour is called a 'false self'--a personality that is developed to deal with a parents excessive expectations or even too little expectations. And oftentimes, this 'false self' will spill into other facets of their lives.
This phenomenon is universal in the western world. If this is so, how do we gain a balance so that our children can be raised without this pressure? And how do we gauge that from child to child when every child in the family is different? If there an answer to this? If this pressure is built into the ties that bind parents to their children and vice-versa, is it a losing proposition? Are we just supposed to rearrange the deck chairs in the Titanic?
I am a mother AND a daughter myself and as I ponder these observations, I am calmed by the knowledge that Christ has descended below all things. Yes, even below these pressure-cooker, nitro-glycerin packed relationships. He understands me from both angles--from the standpoint of a daughter who cannot satisfy her parents expectations, who feels like a failure and who still does not know what to be when she grows up. And He understands me from the standpoint of a mother who has devoted her time, energy and talents into raising four children and feels woefully guilty about her errors, omissions and poorly, lacking execution of parenting good sense.
At some point, as a daughter, it is my responsibility and choice to see my mother as an individual with hopes, dreams and a tremendous sense of responsibility. My mother can feel pain and guilt about her own lacks and mistakes. She also feels a great sense of loss that she seems to be so dismally incapable of improving her relationship with her children simply because she does not have the tools or wherewithal to do so. And I forgive her and appreciate her. And I know she did the best she could. Her very, very best. And I love her for it. There is much choice in this matter. I can now choose to disarm myself from all those pressures and become more at peace with myself forgiving myself for being so hard and blaming my parents. Most of all, I can choose to align myself with their expectations and realize that they existed solely because they are part of the nature of being parents. These are choices I can make and I can release myself from the shackles of these expectations and attempt to rise above them because achieving excellence is not a bad thing after all.
As a mother, I am beset with guilt over my own errors and irrational expectations---that I can hold my children hostage to all those demands. What can I do to appease the demands of my conscience? There is not much within my control because my peace has to come only from my own children's forgiveness, love and acceptance; and hopefully, appreciation. And it flows that way. It has to.
My father once visited me in a dream. He said to me, "Christie, I have something very important to tell you. Remember that what you do here on earth affects me here in the Spirit World."
I thought that this notion was a novel one and so I asked him, "Papa, how do I know that it's you and not me dreaming this?"
Then he said, "I am going to tell you a joke, that's how!"
He then proceeded to tell me a joke that unfortunately, I cannot quite translate into English because the joke will be lost. But the important point is that it is the exact kind of joke that only my father could have invented. I laughed so hard in my dream. And I woke up laughing. And I knew he had been with me.
Whatever I do affects my father who has now passed on for over 20 years. I believe that my forgiveness and love does affect him where he's at. And I do love him ever so much.
Unfortunately, because it goes this direction, I pray that my children will make kind choices regarding their mother and most especially, that they can understand how this phenomenon works so they can be at an advantage. Knowledge is a powerful tool and this understanding is what I can give them. This is why I write. Because what I wish is that they will carry on knowing that these expectations are inextricably woven into the fibers of parenthood and as they reach the level of maturity where they can be forgiving and kind, they can free themselves from the shackles of the pressure that comes with expectations. Unfortunately, these types of wisdom and understanding that comes not just by experience but by careful study, ruminating, assessing, contemplation and yes, personal revelation cannot be bequeathed to generations to come except by articulation. Every generation has to start over. At times realizations of this sort come by some divine serendipity.And thus, I write.
I hope that they can realize that they can be themselves without penalty of disappointment whether it be from their parents or themselves. The way we see the world is a choice that we make and that includes the way we can forgive our parents for having too much expectations that we can handle or too little that we need. I hope that the desire to know themselves more deeply through their parents can be magnified WITHOUT the experience of estrangement because all too frequently, we only realize the value of something when it is gone.
Finally, one never really knows what selfishness is without the experience of having children. There is order in this knowledge. And a calm reassurance in the knowledge that as my children have their own children, they will hopefully appreciate this phenomenon that I have described. And that as their own expectations are formed as they raise and mold their own children, they can perhaps find a better balance than I ever could have accomplished. But I am almost certain that there will be a point as they ponder that delicate balance when they will remember their mother and how much I love them....and how my dreams and hopes for their future were, after all, despite my many imperfections borne out of the same deep and abiding love that they now feel for their own children. And then they can remember me kindly. And so it goes. And on and on, worlds without end.
