Garlands to Grace


Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction
and do not forsake your mother’s teaching.
They are a garland to grace your head
and a chain to adorn your neck.
Proverbs 1:8-9

I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the times I’ve been told how great my parents are. And every time I hear it, I smile and nod in agreement… and think to myself, “You only know the half of it.” None of these people have had the privilege of being my parents’ daughter, at least not to the extent that I did and do. I have learned a lot from my parents. Some things they taught me intentionally, some I learned simply by growing up in our home.

My parents, through the eyes of what they passed down to me:

My dad taught me many practical things: how to exchange electrical switches, drive a car, change a tire, check the oil, fix a bike wheel, build a fire. From my dad I learned how to stain and varnish wood, through the countless pieces of furniture he made that were my training ground. I even learned a little of putting wood together, hammering nails and wielding a screwdriver. He also taught me about online banking and a thing or two about money: that it comes and goes and while we should pay attention to the way both of those happen, we needn’t stress ourselves out about it. He taught me also things of beauty – how to make candles and garden, to appreciate the early morning, to sit on the roof and do nothing at all but stare at a uniquely beautiful beige city and bask in the sun, to enjoy the smell of a good cigar, or a bad cigar— I never learned to tell the difference. Through his tears I learned that showing my emotions is not just okay, but good and healthy. My dad demonstrated that it is okay to rest before the work is finished, to leave a task undone and relax. He showed me how to Sabbath right in the middle of everything.

My mom also taught me many things: how to do dishes really really fast (haven’t quite mastered this), to braid hair, to make a mean lasagna, to bake and how to eyeball, using recipes as guidelines. She taught me that it can be important to plan…. buuuut, not always. And certainly not every detail. To leave room for spontaneity (or did she get that from me?). I learned from her to love reading, devouring book after book together on the couch, hungry for more information, more stories. She taught me to ask questions and the importance of listening. She taught me that not everyone communicates like I do, that this is a good thing, and how to handle it. She also taught me to care deeply about our world and what is happening in and to her, while still enjoying the pleasures of life without guilt or shame. My mom demonstrates a generosity and hospitality that I can only hope to reflect. From my mom, I learned a bit about making a place beautiful, decorating it and inhabiting it in such a way that when others walk in you can almost hear their exhale into rest.

Yes, my parents taught me about work and rest, appreciating and prioritizing them both. Mom and dad demonstrated a lot as a couple and a family, too. They showed me that it’s okay to disagree by having the same silly arguments about whether or not it’s gonna be enough food for all the guests over and over again, yet ending up in laughter and as in love as ever each time. They taught me a thing or two of flexibility, not at all fazed when I came home after schoolwith three hungry unannounced visitors. They also showed me what it looks like to have boundaries, to heed my insides and be aware of what I need; sometimes also by way of demonstration – that is, sending me and my hungry friends to find our own food. But they showed me that it doesn’t matter who turns up at the door, they are always worth welcoming, and I know their welcoming nature flows out of their love for people.

My parents aren’t perfect. They have made many mistakes. I think I’m allowed to say this because they would say it themselves; they can share their regrets and struggles just like anyone else. I think it’s important to mention because although I am making them sound like absolute heroes (which they are) it’s their mistakes have allowed them to experience “grace upon grace”. Grace upon grace overflows and pours forth onto others. My parents have the grace and love of those who have made it through hard times well, their hearts getting softer and more open as the years pass. Soft and open hearts are susceptible to pain, but if you let it, it can grow into something beautiful. So mom and dad don’t shy away from pain, but face it head on, embracing hardship and making difficult decisions.
To me, my parents are the embodiment of Home.

Sure, the endless teas, coffees, and warm meals, good conversations, listening ears, kind words, laughter, candlelight, fresh sheets to sleep on, and hearty breakfasts in the morning contribute to their warm hospitality. But at the core are the keys to Home: love and grace, much received and poured out on you because you are infinitely valuable.

…

“I love your parents; they are so great.”

Every time I hear it, I smile and nod in agreement… and feel the garland gracing my head and the chain adorning my neck.

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