Not long after Ben and I had Sarah, our second daughter, my parents sat us down for a “talk.” Turned out they were hurt that we didn’t turn to them for advice. My mom did most of the talking. “When your father and I were raising you and your brother, we always asked our parents for help. Now, we can’t understand why you don’t come to us and ask about our parenting experience.”
Ben and I were taken
aback. This was definitely not the conversation we were expecting. At the same
time, we were still learning how to navigate our ever-changing relationship
with our parents as adult children. No longer living in their homes and raising
our own small children, we didn’t feel we needed our parents’ unsolicited
opinions about what worked for them but was no longer relevant or applicable to
our family situation.
Some of this was
generational, some due to the fact that we were raising children who had
special needs, and a little bit related to newer research about attachment
theory that taught us what our parents didn’t know about emotional connection
and attunement.
I’ve pondered for many
years the spirituality of the parent-adult child relationship and what
Scripture and the Church have to say about that delicate dance of moving from
obeying our parents to increasing autonomy. Here are some of my thoughts.
“Take care of your father when he is old; grieve him not as long as he lives. Even if his mind fail, be considerate of him; revile him not all the day of his life; kindness to a father will not be forgotten, firmly planted against the debt of your sins – a house raised in justice to you.” – Sirach 3: 12-14
My relationship with my
mom and dad has become complicated the last several years. I grew up in a home
rife with mental illness and the residual effects of alcoholism, which my
parents dealt with as children. Boundaries were blurry. I didn’t even know what
boundaries were until college. At that point, deep in my psychology degree, I
began to see things differently about communication and listening. I wanted to
be free from judgmentalism, criticism, and codependency.
Despite the tension
between me and my parents, I’ve always believed it was my duty to care for them
as they aged. I still believe that to be true, even in the cases where adult
children have longstanding grievances against their parents, unresolved wounds,
estrangement. Even so, many do not find their way to caring for their parents
as their parents once cared for them. They are impatient with the forgetfulness
that Alzheimer’s brings. They can’t be bothered to spend “unproductive” time
reminiscing about their parents’ childhoods, feeding them, or assisting with
bathing. But Scripture is clear that it is our responsibility to care for our
kin; this is a high form of charity, particularly when trauma at their hands is
concerned.
“As they grow up, children should continue to respect their parents. They should anticipate their wishes, willingly seek their advice, and accept their just admonitions. Obedience toward parents ceases with the emancipation of the children; not so respect, which is always owed to them. This respect has its roots in the fear of God, one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit.” (CCC 2217)
I wanted to demonstrate
respect to my parents when they suggested Ben and I come to them for parenting
advice. “Mom,” I began, “I know you and Dad have decades of experience and much
wisdom to share with us. Ben and I appreciate that. It’s just difficult to ask
you specifically how to raise our children when their issues are so different
than what David and I grew up with. That’s why I talk to parents who have kids
with sensory issues, anxiety, and Apert syndrome instead.”
I’m not sure my mom
understood, but my intentions were out of love. I knew at that point that,
regardless of their opinion, Ben and I did not have the obligation to obey my
parents. But we did need to accept with graciousness whatever they felt was
best. The Church validated our decision, I discovered later.
It seems that aging brings about its own form of suffering. Caring for our parents with patience, empathy, and acceptance of their shortcomings actually bears upon it the fruit of peace and harmony. This does not mean our relationship with our parents must be void of appropriate boundaries, honest dialogue, while tolerating sin or evil or abuse. It means by virtue of their authority as our parents, we will find greater interior peace when we choose to love them despite the complex dynamic and painful pasts we may share with them.
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Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash
