Before my husband and I had our first child, we participated in childbirth and parenting classes at our hospital. We received quite an education in those classes on everything from deep breathing to swaddling. One unexpected tidbit I picked up from the nurse, though, was about my own career choice.
At some point in the class we talked about ourselves: our childhoods, our careers, our marriages. It was a nurse who put together for me, after hearing about the way my parents raised me, "No wonder you are a coach and consultant!" Their method of teaching was more experiential and questioning than authoritative. They guided and suggested instead of pushing. And my dad in particular, is a storyteller and a bit of a dreamer.
His experiences range from the Air Force to farmer to entrepreneur to rural Fire Chief, but it is through all of the conversations with my dad over the years that I have gleaned some of my most important pearls of wisdom:
"You have to make your own fun." I had been ice skating on the pond with my siblings and no one wanted to play the game I wanted to play. As I grumped home, I met my dad, who was on his way to join in the games. I told him there was no fun over there. His reply sticks with me and I repeat it to my own children on a regular basis.
"Education is important. No one can ever take it away from you." This is the paraphrased message I heard from Dad over and over throughout the years. Dad does not have a college degree, but he always let us know how much he valued it for us. I believe in education as deeply as I believe in communication; they go hand in hand.
"Carry on!" This is how my dad ended his toast at my wedding reception. The toast was a short and oh-so-sweet endorsement of my new husband, his family, our friends and our life. I'm not sure everyone got it, but I did and it still makes me feel blessed to have my life. My gratitude stems from this appreciation.
When I was young I used to watch Dad walk all over the farm. He called it "walking the perimeter." When his knees went bad, he carried a 5 gallon bucket to rest on when he was tired, but he still made the walk. My perimeter may be a lot smaller, but I like to walk it and see it and live it and dream it, just like my dad.
Thanks Dad.
