A Mother’s Purest Love: Reflections on Discipline and Freedom

In every challenge, there is an opportunity for growth, a lesson of love often taught by those who care for us most profoundly. In reflecting upon my childhood, I see the contours of such love, shaped by both discipline and profound affection. This story captures the essence of a love that, though at times stern, was always meant to guide and protect.

Through these experiences, I’ve come to realize the depth of my parents’ care. Their methods, though sometimes harsh, were their way of preparing me for the challenges of life, much like the protective love the Psalm speaks of: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will guide you with My Eye.” Psalm 32:8

As I reflect on my upbringing, I’m filled with a profound sense of gratitude for the unwavering love and guidance of my dear mother, who recently passed away. Growing up in a traditional, culturally rich environment, I now understand the deeper meaning behind the discipline I experienced as a child.

I remember the times when I longed for the freedom to play, just like the other children in the neighborhood. The whippings from my father’s belt and my mother’s slipper often left me feeling frustrated and resentful. Yet, as I look back, I see the pure, selfless love that motivated their actions.

My mother, in her infinite wisdom, knew that true freedom comes not from indulgence, but from the cultivation of discipline and self-control. The naps she insisted we take on Saturdays and Sundays were not meant to deprive us of playtime, but to nurture our physical and mental well-being.

One evening, after a small victory at school had lightened my spirits, excited about the prizes I had won, but I returned home later than expected. My father, already on edge, couldn’t see past the breach of rules. The consequences were swift and harsh, driving me to seek refuge with my aunt and uncle next door. That night, I declared I wouldn’t return home, my young heart overwhelmed by fear and misunderstanding.

Unbeknownst to me, my mother came looking for me that same evening. Respecting my need for space, she agreed to return the following morning. Her gentle persistence was a testament to her love. The next day, her voice, soft and reassuring, reached out to me, inviting me back home with promises of safety and understanding. It was my aunt who encouraged me to face home again, reassuring me of their continued support should I need it.

In my mother’s call to return, I found the courage to trust again. At home, my father awaited, not with admonishments, but with a breakfast meant to welcome me back into the family fold. So, it was my mother’s gentle persistence and unwavering love that ultimately brought me back home, where I was greeted not with further discipline, but with a warm, forgiving embrace and the promise of a shared family meal.

It is now clear to me that the “belts, slippers, and bamboo” were not instruments of cruelty, but symbols of my parents’ deep care and concern for my well-being. They were guiding me, shaping me, and molding me into the person I am today – a person who recognizes the priceless value of a parent’s love, even in the face of necessary discipline.

As I mourn the loss of my mother, I am filled with immense gratitude for the purest, most selfless love she has always shown me. Her unwavering dedication to our family, her patience, and her ability to see beyond the surface of my childish rebellions have left an indelible mark on my heart. I know that her spirit will continue to guide me, just as the Psalmist promises, and I will strive to honor her memory by embodying the same wise, loving approach to life.