The Parentals

I have the most amazing parents. Period. End of story. I thought they were just "alright" when I was young, but the older I get, the more I grow to appreciate the gift I've been granted in them. Ephesians 6:1 was always in front of my brother and me . We memorized it and were reminded of it every time we would disobey or question our parents authority. It wasn't just them that had authority over us, but God's word clearly stated, "Children, OBEY your parents in the Lord for this is right." How can you argue with that? It's very obvious what the point of that passage is! Even now I think of several times that I got in trouble. I can also think of times I probably should've gotten into trouble, but for one reason or another, I didn't. I vividly remember a couple of times that mom would say the worst thing to me...EVER..."Casey, I'm disappointed in you." UGH! Just spank me a million times, ground me, cut my leg off...but DON'T tell me you're disappointed. I would cry and cry and cry at that statement. I didn't want to disappoint her...and I didn't want to disappoint my Father either. I knew that was the case. It was those hand full of times that I learned my lesson the best.
I remember as a little bity girl, bath time. Mom would leave me in the tub to play, and when my hands were pruny, dad would come in and wash me. When bath time was over, I'd hear him sing, "Stand up, stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the cross..." I ate it up! I would sing along. Even when I got older and would take a bath, I would hum the song or at least think about it.
We had scripture all over the house. We listened to Christian music in the car. We had discussions about Jesus...and the Bible...and everything else under the Son. (pun intended) Those were just the kinds of things my parents knew we should be talking about. Philipians 4:8...that was their motto in our household.
When I was in the 5th grade, our school added a 5th and 6th grade center. Dad took me to school every morning. I remember when we were on our way to school, dad would reach over, turn the radio off and ask, "is it your turn or mine?" You see, we took turns praying every morning. I mean EVERY morning! If we forgot, I'd just sit with him in the parking lot at school and pray before getting out of the car. Some mornings, my grandpa would have to take me for one reason or another. I always wanted to make sure our day was covered in prayer.
I've been thinking a lot about this lately. As I make the 30+ minute drive to work every morning, I carry on our tradition from 5th grade. Its part of my time alone...with God. He meets with me on Interstate 24 Eastbound and sits in my car with me, figuratively speaking. I cherish those moments I spent meeting with the Lord, my dad, and my grandpa. Now, those moments are few and far between with my dad, but I can still meet with my Father any time. And now, my grandpa is spending every second of eternity at the feet of Jesus. One day, I'll be there too...because of little moments like these, I know without doubt I will.
So, thanks to my parents for "bringing me up in the way [I] should go." I'm still working on it, and will continue to, but I think I'm going the right way.