I guess you had to be born
before the 1940’s to know what I mean about a special kind of love.
I believe you have to be brought up in a family that
demonstrates their love and affection for one another; there are those who are
just born huggers; touchy, feely kind of people. My parents were not like that.
My mother and father were both born in the late 1800’s
and they were of an era when people in their particular part of the country, did
not demonstrate their feelings too often. When they did it was almost
imperceptible.
I remember once when I was about eight or nine years
old, I came home from school one afternoon and asked my Mom if I could attend a
movie which was being shown at the Library. Now, we lived on the East side of
the river, which was not the best part of town. But in order to get to the
Library, we had to walk across town and then across the bridge into the main
part of the town before turning on Main Street and walking another block or two
to reach the Library. This was quite a distance for an eight or nine year old.
Naturally my Mother said “No”. I begged and pleaded
and she didn’t budge an inch. Finally in rebellion, I said, “I’m going.” She
warned me what would happen when I got home. But I was determined to go see the
movie.
So, off I went to the Library. I can’t even tell you
what the movie was about, because I was so worried that when I got home my Dad
was going to tan my hide.
I arrived home just at dusk, not quite dark, but so
close you could barely tell the difference.
I began to beg my Mom not to let my Dad whip me. I had
seen him give whippings and I didn’t want any. Not that he was a child beater.
But he made a believer out me.
He never did give me a whipping, but I was so afraid
he was going to I never did anything like that again.
That was a special kind of love. They loved me enough
not to allow me to do things that would be potentially harmful to me.
I don’t remember either my Mom or Dad ever embracing
me and telling me they loved me. However, one day, my father took me to town
with him and when we were crossing the street in front of the bank, we met an
old friend.
My Dad said the usual helloes, how are you, etc. Then
he put his arm around my shoulders and said “This is my baby.”
That was the closest thing to an embrace and
affectionate hug my Dad ever gave me. It was also the closest he ever came to
saying he loved me. Still today, I get a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye
when I recall those words, “This is my baby.” In moments of tenderness when
someone embraces me and says, “I love you,” I get teary eyed and choked up
because it was so seldom expressed to me when I was a child.
But it was a special kind of love. He didn’t have to
tell us that he loved us, we knew it.
However, I do not advocate parents being this distant
from their children.
That was the way my father and mother were raised, and
they didn’t know how to show their love and affection. But children need that
show of affection and to be told they are loved often.
As a result of my parents seemingly cold and distant
ways toward me, I was unable to show my love and affection to our children.
Therefore, it was hard on them. They had a difficult time with that. Our
youngest son helped bring my husband and me out of that cold, unfeeling way of
un-expressed love and affection towards our children. He always, from the time
he was a baby would kiss us good night and tell us he loved us; because we
didn’t have a problem telling the babies we loved them and showing them love and
adoration. It was when they got older it became difficult for us to express our
love for them, because that was the way we had been raised.
So, please parents, show your love and affection for
your children. They will reward you for it after they are grown and have
children of their own.
"If I
speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a
resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can
fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move
mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor
and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not
envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not
self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does
not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always
trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails."
(1 Cor 13:1-9 NIV)
Nell Berry nellberry07@gmail.com
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