I Remember Spanking, A Lot

 

I Remember Spanking, A Lot

     Foolishness is surely bound up in the heart of a child.  We used a rod to drive it far from them.  Redirection meant nothing to us.  We did not reason with them.  Quick obedience is what we aimed for.  It was the bar.  Anything less met the hand of correction.

     Steering a small army of seven meant the older served the younger.  Jackets, shoes, and such.  From command given to troop movement, time was essential if we were to be mobile.  If I called a name upstairs, the accepted response was “Coming!”

     Their mother and I came from no large family.  Mine catered to little self-indulgences.  I typically enjoyed my own room.  Servanthood I did not know.  Marriage and family life shocked me when I was expected to sacrifice.  We trained our children oppositely.

     I remember spanking, a lot.  My hand, a wooden spoon in the kitchen let them know the direction.  Sometimes in anger or frustration, still I think they understood.  Whining, back talk, and throwing fits were not tolerated.  I backed their mother and her commands.

     Certainly, my children could recall “horror stories,” but to my knowledge none have spent the night in jail.  In fact, my dad constantly compliments our parenting style.  “They are a pleasure to be around.”  He was a guidance counselor.  He’s seen many.

     Correct in love.  Let not society tell you nor restrict you.  Yes, DHS is there as a wall.  God will tell you if you are too heavy handed.  Involvement in a local church keeps you accountable.

     Children must learn fear.  It starts in the home.  From it emanates respect.  Honor follows.

^{Proverbs 9:10 “}The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding.”

     Something must keep them from putting their tongue in the wall outlet.