BEING RAISED IN an era of almost unbridled modernity, as we always contend, our children, we often fear, are possessed with values that are far different from those we grew up with. Unlike us, we say, our children are not as concerned about their families as they are of themselves; they will always insist upon what they want regardless of what their elders tell them. No thanks to advanced media technology in this day and age that has infused western values and morals that are overly liberal into our children’s psyche.
As I am writing this, my son, Shin, would be on his fifth day in our local community hospital. His doctor is treating him for dengue, and the critical signs have been stabilized. But the recurring fever still has everyone perplexed, the doctor included.
Yesterday morning, as his doctor went about his regular rounds, my son heard him tell my wife that he could already go home if his fever subsided and if he regained his appetite. That morning, my wife told me, my son beamed with joy, and even if he didn’t exactly liked hospital food, he forced himself to eat.
But our anticipation was short-lived, depressingly so for my son as his fever shot up in the late afternoon. He was in tears as my wife read the thermometer results.
She tried to comfort him as best as she could. “Don’t worry, you’ll be well in no time and you could already play with your friends and go to school next week.”
But my son just looked at her, tears welling in his eyes.
“It’s not that, Mammy,” he said. “If I stayed on for another day, how can we afford the growing hospital bills?” his voice trembled. “It is getting very expensive here and I know how you and Pappy are trying so hard to save money.”
My wife was speechless. She had to look the other way to keep my son from seeing her cry.
When my wife told me what happened, I found myself restrained in sadness. I remembered the many times I reprimanded my children for not taking care of the things which I have sacrificed so much of myself to provide them with. Many times have I ridiculed them for being insensitive to my concerns as the sole breadwinner of the family.
My usual tirades would be: “Why are you not eating? Don’t you ever pity me for working hard just to put food on our table?,” “Where did you put your toys and books? Now, they’re all lost, just as the first ones I bought. Don’t you know how much they cost?”
Sometimes we tend to underestimate the capacity of our children to fully understand the issues that bear on us daily as adults. And most of the time we think of our children as hopelessly different and indifferent, rendered incapable of empathy by the present environment they live as we ourselves can only hope to contain the myriad of social and societal influences that affect their lives.
As I remember what my son said on that hospital bed, this I have learned:
There is danger in opening our children’s eyes to our problems as adults. That responsibility still lies in their near future which they will get to in God’s time. For now, our children need to grow up secure in the thought that their parents can always be a wall to lean on to, not a façade that’s ready to crumble at the slightest tremor. They need to be spared of the consequences borne out of our shortcomings as parents.
As a proof of your strength or stability, our children will never demand that you show them money, or the lack of it. Our being there for them, no matter what the circumstances are and will be, will be more than proof for that. And if we need to teach them to appreciate our sacrifices, we need not worry. That will always come as matter of consequence.
If at all, the sacrifices I have made for my children are nothing that I should even harp about; it is an obligation I have sworn to fulfill before God when my wife and I decided to have them. It is an obligation which does not and must never demand something in return. Our sacrifices are what my children deserve to be given in the first place.
If God, even in my old age, continues to treat me like a child who is incapable of standing and walking on his own, why should I be so demanding on my children? If God continually assures me that all will be well despite the problems that beset me, why can I not give the same assurance to my children? If God always reaches out his hand to me at every moment that I call on Him in despair, why do I deprive my children of a hand for them to hold on to?
I only need to see how my God has been so good a Father to me to realize that my children deserve no less than that kind of father, of me, as well.
(nscatura)
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