I had written this before, but feel the need to repeat it today on Father's Day.
My dad was brought up Catholic. My mom Protestant. They decided to raise us in the Protestant church. There was no getting out of going to church every Sunday. Except, that is, on the occasional Sunday that my dad would wake me up early to work with him on the apple orchard. Thinking I was getting out of church was usually short lived as my dad always found a way of still getting a lesson in there somewhere for the day.
When I was fourteen, everyone was given a permission slip for our parents to sign so that we could join the church. I thought my dad would be really happy that this was something I wanted to do. So, that evening after dinner, I gave him the paper to sign. He looked at it, put it back on the table and said that he would not sign it. I was quite confused to say the least.
He explained it like this. It was he and my mom's intention that I get a good base, a good foundation. Now that he felt that I had it, it was my turn to go and decide what was truly right for me. If for the next few years I wanted him to take me to the catholic church, he would. A synagogue, baptist, advent, temple....he would. It was truly up to me, but I had to study something. If there was no place near for me to go, then I was to get a book. We would then talk about it later.
To this day I treasure this gift. This freedom to truly believe what resonates within.
My dad was brought up Catholic. My mom Protestant. They decided to raise us in the Protestant church. There was no getting out of going to church every Sunday. Except, that is, on the occasional Sunday that my dad would wake me up early to work with him on the apple orchard. Thinking I was getting out of church was usually short lived as my dad always found a way of still getting a lesson in there somewhere for the day.
When I was fourteen, everyone was given a permission slip for our parents to sign so that we could join the church. I thought my dad would be really happy that this was something I wanted to do. So, that evening after dinner, I gave him the paper to sign. He looked at it, put it back on the table and said that he would not sign it. I was quite confused to say the least.
He explained it like this. It was he and my mom's intention that I get a good base, a good foundation. Now that he felt that I had it, it was my turn to go and decide what was truly right for me. If for the next few years I wanted him to take me to the catholic church, he would. A synagogue, baptist, advent, temple....he would. It was truly up to me, but I had to study something. If there was no place near for me to go, then I was to get a book. We would then talk about it later.
To this day I treasure this gift. This freedom to truly believe what resonates within.
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