Whether you are a Minnesota native or not, I’m sure you either have your own story of the Halloween Blizzard of 1991 or someone has shared their story of that day with you. For me, besides my wedding day and the birth days of my children, it was the greatest day of my life. I recently shared my recollections of the day with my kids. At one point, one of them asked a clarifying question: “You mean your parents let you go Trick or Treating by yourselves?!” I sort of shrugged and said, “Parenting was different then.”
I have very good evidence to indicate that the people my parents are aren’t the same people who parented me in the 1980s and 90s. My best example is when we were at their house and my mom gave one of my kids a glass of juice to drink. After taking a sip, he declared it “too juicy,” and my mom took action to correct the situation! Let me just say, that’s not how it would have been handled when I was a kid.
In many ways, seeing this change is comforting to me. Juicy juice notwithstanding, no parent is perfect, and seeing evidence of people changing over time acknowledges that we can learn, grow, and change.
I am now firmly in the sandwich generation. I have three children under the age of 10, and two aging parents who need increasing amounts of care. I am responsible for both my children and my parents in dual caregiving roles. It is a challenging situation that places demands on my time, attention, and patience. It also provides opportunities to consider the parenting and family dynamics of my childhood and whether I am replaying them in my own parenting.
I remember one night when I was about five years old, and I was having difficulty going to sleep. I got out of my bed, saying I was thirsty, and I was told I had to stay in bed and couldn’t have anything to drink. I don’t actually remember whether I was thirsty or not, but it was clear that it didn’t matter – I was supposed to stay in bed either way.
Cut to a few years ago when my oldest child was about the same age I would’ve been in that story. They asked for a glass of water, and I said it was time to go to bed. They replied, “But I have to listen to my body! When my body tells me it needs water, I have to take care of it!” I hid a smile behind my hand, got them a small glass of water, and tucked them back into bed. The point was not really the water; it was feeling a sense of safety and connectedness before going to sleep for the night.
We are likely all familiar with the phrase, honor your father and your mother. However, the actual wording in the Torah is, “Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that Lord your G-d is giving you.” (Exodus 20:12) Our creator commands us to provide honor (kavod; כַּבֵּ֥ד) to the people who raised us as a condition of receiving the land of Israel.
It is significant that this is the fifth commandment. The first five commandments, which appeared on the first tablet, include directives that establish rules between humans and G-d. This is in contrast with the second five, which establish guidelines for conduct between humans. To me, this means that how we honor our parents is indicative of the honor we give to G-d, even more than it is about how we feel about our parents themselves or how much honor we think they deserve.
The honor that we give to them is not necessarily in the same measure as was afforded to us when they were caring for us as children. We don’t have to repeat what the older generation did in the care we provide now, whether it be for our children or the care we provide back to our parents. There can be healing of past hurts by choosing to do things differently than our parents did, and the establishment of new love and honor between us when we do this.
