Happy Father's Day

My dad is a good man.

Through the years, he and I haven't always agreed.

He hurt my feelings a time or two.

But I always knew he loved me. And how do I know this?

He taught me to love reading and learning.

He taught and expected me to work hard and to be self-sufficient.

He served me and my family in countless ways. He went to work every work day, often performing dull and thankless tasks, so that I could have food to eat, a bed to sleep in, piano lessons and voice lessons, and fun vacations from time to time. And when we went on these vacations, he was usually the one to drive, even as the rest of us entertained ourselves or slept.

Sure, I can remember times where he lost his temper, or got annoyed at things that seemed so minor and petty to me; but as a parent myself now, I have much more sympathy and understanding than I did back then, and I pass no judgment on my dad-- or my mom-- for any of their perceived failings. And anyway, they did a pretty darn good job, even in spite of themselves. I hope I can do at least as well with my own children as they did with me and my siblings.

My father was and IS an exceptional man.

He sat with me and patiently walked me through countless complex math problems, explaining them to me the best he could, even though I often failed to understand and more than a handful of times ended up screaming and running to my room with tears of frustration in my eyes.

He took the time to gather our family together every evening to read our scriptures and pray together. We gave him a hard time sometimes, joking around or trying to wrap up conversations which were sometimes difficult to put down. I imagine there must have been times where he and my mom both dreaded that looming half-hour every evening, knowing there was the possibility of chaos and near-warfare at times. They must have been so exhausted and tempted to just send us all to bed right away (or at least go to bed themselves) without all the fuss of "family time."

He served in various church callings, cheerfully and willingly. And he always supported my mother in her church duties as well.

He gave me a Father's Blessing every year before I started school; he blessed me when I was sick, or any other time I asked him. He kept himself worthy to perform these blessings at a moment's notice.

Sure, he wasn't perfect. But he never gave up trying.

I love my dad. He is worth loving. And his love is worth desiring, and I know he shares it willingly with me. I am so grateful for that, and for all that he does.

Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

~Sylvia

Romantic Love vs. Parental Love

Okay, this question came up in an online forum and I responded there, but I thought it worth sharing my response here, because it was thought-provoking for me.

Here's the question: How do romantic love and parental love compare? How are they the same? How are they different?

Interesting question...

With my children, it is rather a different kind of love in some ways. I feel more responsible for my children than I do for my spouse. I feed them, I play with them, I comfort them...I can do all these things for my spouse, too; but when I serve him, he realizes I'm doing it out of love and that he really has no right to demand that I do these things for him, and he thanks me regularly. With my children, though, I consider it my job to care for them, and I do it whether they appreciate it or not.

It is a nurturing love. I love them because I serve them; because they need me; because even before they were born, I knew them better than anyone else in the whole world knew them.

It is an awe-inspiring love. I know hormones have a lot to do with it (don't they in romantice love, too, though?); but when I gave birth to each of my boys, and they were placed in my arms, it was a moment was like no other. And I felt my whole soul and body reaching out to that newborn baby, like but also unlike, the feeling that accompanies sex-- only more pure and innocent and 100% selfless, because I knew there was no way my child would ever be able to repay me for what I had just given him and would continue to give to him for at least the first 18 years of his life.

Even romantic love changes after having a child. I have fallen more deeply in love with my husband since having our children. We have created two lives together, we are now "creating" two young men together. It's not always easy, but, what doesn't manage to completely rip us apart can only make our bond stronger. We have learned to love each other better, and in different ways than we did before, because we've had to for our relationship to survive.

Some characteristics of a Romantic relationship versus a Parent-Child relationship...

Romantic:
You chose each other. You had time to get a "feel" for each other and decide whether or not you really wanted to be together.
You strive to "become one," where there used to be a time when you didn't even know each other and were completely independent of each other.
You are peers.
You hope to be together for the rest of your lives.
If the former turns out to be impossible, you are allowed to separate and never see each other again, and it is perfectly socially acceptable.

Parent-Child:
You chose to have a child, but he had no choice in the matter, and you have as much control over his personality as he did over yours (meaning none), yet you must learn to make the best of the situation.
You start out as "one," but over time he becomes more and more his own person, and less and less "yours."
You are at least a decade older than him (two decades if you were smart), and you will never truly be peers no matter how you may try.
You sincerely hope that he will not be with you for the rest of your life.
Sure, you can abandon your child, but if you do you will be regarded with contempt by most of society.