When I reflect on my childhood, I recall the Sundays spent in church and the Wednesday evening meetings that my parents insisted we attend. My mother, a second-generation follower of a unique faith, shunned all forms of medical intervention for our family. I remember fervently praying for better eyesight to avoid glasses, but to no avail. My siblings and I relied on prayer to navigate through illnesses like measles and chickenpox, as vaccinations were not part of our upbringing. I even found myself in a harrowing situation after being ejected from a convertible on the last day of school, waking up alone in an ICU with the sobering thought: “Thank goodness my mother was at a church event, or I might not be here.”
In contrast, my husband’s upbringing involved attending Bible camps where children were posed with intense moral dilemmas. Thankfully, our own children have never been part of that church culture. We don’t take them to services, and they don’t seem to miss it. However, their lack of traditional religious affiliation doesn’t mean they lack faith. They have their own understanding of the divine and the importance of goodness, all without the fear of hellfire that many associate with religion.
Our version of spirituality is different. It’s organized, but not in the conventional sense. We emphasize kindness as the cornerstone of our family values. Our children are taught compassion for those in need, respect for their elders, and the importance of manners, especially around adults. We reinforce the principles of hard work and honesty, instilling in them that cheating or lying can undermine their achievements. They learn accountability and the significance of sincere apologies. The golden rule of treating others as they wish to be treated is a daily reminder in our household.
We consistently encourage them to appreciate their privileges, recognizing the dangers and unfairness that exist in the world, particularly for girls. They understand that they are fortunate to have access to quality education, a safe home, and plentiful meals. We nurture gratitude and awareness of life beyond their immediate experiences.
When our kids inquire about the nature of God, we tell them, “God is Love, with a capital ‘L.’” They may ask what God looks like, and we guide them to consider, “What does our love look like to you? Can you see it, or do you just feel it in your heart?” We encourage them to seek solace through quiet meditation and view God as a friend who is always there to listen. We remind them to ask for guidance and to be open to the answers they receive, reinforcing their connection to a larger force for good—a force whose contributions are sorely needed in the world today.
In our home, we strive to embody love and support for one another. Many parents today are moving away from traditional beliefs—perhaps due to witnessing discrimination against loved ones or struggling with inconsistencies in religious texts. Our own friends, like the three “fun uncles” our children adore, exemplify the diverse definitions of family and love.
As I matured, I realized that faith does not have to be an all-or-nothing proposition. I sought a spirituality that transcended rigid doctrines, finding meaning in quieter spaces. I am confident that our children won’t face confusion or hypocrisy as they grow; they’ll have their own questions, and I’m prepared to answer them honestly. If I don’t have all the answers, I’ll admit it. I’m comfortable with the unknown, trusting that their internal compasses will guide them. I believe our kids are well-adjusted, and I trust that they are embraced by a benevolent force.
In summary, the values of kindness and compassion that I teach my children are rooted in a love that transcends traditional religious boundaries. Our family embraces gratitude, accountability, and respect for others, fostering a deep understanding of the world around them. It’s about nurturing a sense of spirituality that aligns with love and compassion, rather than rigid dogma.
Leave a Reply