Until I Rounded the Corner — Honoring My Dad
A few years out of college, my dad called me while I was at work one day. He told me, “Brent, I might need you to come pick me up. I’m in too much pain to drive.”
When I picked him up, he told me what happened. It was a cold weekday, and on his way to the mailbox, he slipped on the ice and fell. He didn’t think much of it and went to work, but the pain intensified until he had to call me.
Seeing how much pain he was in, my mom and I insisted that he get checked. After the CT scans at the hospital, we found out that he had broken 7 ribs! We were told there could be a possibility of a rib puncturing a lung, and that he would need to be further examined.
I saw my dad’s face drop, and he suddenly became very quiet. To this day, I’m still not positive what went through his mind, but I’m sure a man his age thinks differently about serious health concerns than I do.
The doctors eventually told us that there was no concern for lung puncture and that he wouldn’t need a brace or cast because the body was incredible at healing ribs. We took their word for it and went home.
Helping My Dad Recover
The following days, my dad was bedridden. The pain had gotten to the point where he needed help sitting up, lying down, and walking. He would lean on me as I took him to the bathroom. For meals, my mom and I would bring the food to the bedroom, and we would all eat crowded around a tiny foldable table.
My life changed during this season while my dad was recovering. The chores my dad would normally do fell to me. Along with helping him with his basic needs, it meant I had far less personal time. I would have preferred doing my own thing, but it was during this time that I began to learn what it meant to honor my parents.
Honor Your Parents
Growing up in church, I, along with many of my peers, always asked what this meant.
I think we all knew the Sunday School answer, but we kept asking because we never liked it. It always seemed to boil down to “listen to and obey your parents,” which, for a teenager, was not what we wanted to hear. We always wanted to know “how long do I have to obey them?”
I want to share some insights I’ve gained since becoming a parent.
My job as a parent is to help my children grow into people who care about and honor others. The hard part is that children don’t naturally think that way.
So, where do we begin, and how do we get them there? I’ve started to learn that there’s a difference between obedience, submission, and honor.
Obedience, Submission, and Honor
Obedience is obligation — doing the right thing because I have to. This is where parenting usually begins. Putting away toys, eating vegetables, settling down for bed, and being polite to others. For an adult, reason precedes action. But for a young child, action precedes reasoning. As children mature, the reasoning eventually catches up. For now, they need to obey because mommy and daddy said so.
For a young child, action precedes reasoning
Submission is responsibility — doing the right thing because I should. This is what young children should eventually transition into. A child may not feel like sharing with, apologizing to, or helping others, but they can begin to understand why it matters. The hope is that children will begin choosing to do the right thing on their own, for its own sake.
At some point, love and gratitude begin changing responsibility into desire, and submission becomes honor.
Honor is joy — doing the right thing because I want to. This is the ultimate goal of a parent-child relationship. Just by looking at my wife and me, I can tell this transition can happen between widely different times. For her, it was as early as high school. For me, it started around the time of my dad’s broken ribs and only solidified when I hit 30.
Learning To Honor My Parents
I recently came across photos of my dad holding my two children.
It struck me that this was probably how he once held me too. The very least I can do is help hold my dad when he needed help getting to the bathroom while recovering.
Since I became a dad, I’ve watched my parents continue to pour themselves into another generation. I don’t think I’ll be able to thank them enough for everything they’ve done ever since they held me like this.
I was over at their house one day with my children. My mom was busy cooking for us, and my dad was doing yard work. When I see them hard at work, something in me is deeply moved. I insisted on helping in some way, and my mom said I could mop the floors. When I was younger, I did this out of submission whenever my mom asked.
Now, I feel joy because I know every floor I mop is one my parents don’t have to.
Who My Dad Is
I never thought I’d end up so similar to my dad. He’s a lot quieter than I am, but I solve problems and do chores the same way he taught me to. If there’s anything I hope I take after my dad for, it is his consistency and discipline. He works out almost every day, cooks and cleans on schedule, and naps at the same time every afternoon. He slipped on ice, got up, and went to work with 7 broken ribs. That’s just the kind of man he is.
From 6th grade until the day I graduated high school, I never ate a school lunch. Every day, my dad would wake up before me to act as a second alarm clock and to prepare my breakfast and lunch. I used to complain about eating breakfast, saying it wasn’t necessary, but I’d go back and kick my younger self. After breakfast, my dad would hand me my lunch box and walk me to the front door. As I walked out of the house and down the street, I remember every time I’d look back, I’d see my dad watching me, until I rounded the corner and was out of sight.
To My Dad…
There was only one time I ever said “thank you” for doing this. And I don’t think I ever said “I love you” as a response. You have probably always been worried about whether you have equipped me well enough for life, and I want to tell you that you have. I know how to cook because of you, change out toilet parts, and righty-tighty lefty-loosey. You taught me to enjoy exercise, how to play ping pong and badminton, and that sitting silently to think is a virtue.
You always apologized for losing your temper with me, but truthfully, you were one of the most patient people I knew, and when you did lecture me, I knew I deserved it. You don’t know you did this, but you taught me how to apologize to others and what it looks like to endure long-suffering.
I hope you know that, as your ungrateful son watched you, he eventually grew to be grateful for you.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
