Time to change

---

Permission to Parent Differently

I parented the way my mom parented—until I hit my late twenties or early thirties. That means our oldest child experienced a more traumatic upbringing than I ever intended. Not because we were abusive on purpose or set out to cause harm, but because we parented the way we were parented.

My mom was a single mother after my parents’ divorce. I believe she thought she had to be tough to raise us right. And while there’s a difference between being firm and being harsh, that line often blurred. As the oldest, I bore the weight of her frustration and aggression. I pushed her buttons—I was strong-willed and outspoken—and while I needed boundaries, I didn’t need the moments that went too far… the ones that left invisible bruises on the inside.

Though I didn’t repeat the exact things with my kids—thank God—I still see ways I fell short, especially with my daughter. There were a few moments I deeply regret. I wish I could go back and change them… but I can’t.

And the truth is, even apologies must wait until the heart is ready to receive them. Pushing for forgiveness before they’re ready can do more harm than good. So we’ve had a few healing conversations as time allows. I pray more are coming. I know there's more to unpack. I just hope my children can forgive me—for being a mom under pressure, under stress, shaped by broken patterns I hadn’t yet learned how to break.

But I did change.

My parenting in my late thirties and forties was softer, wiser, more intentional. And now as a grandma, my approach is completely different. No yelling. No physical correction. Honestly, just raising my voice a bit is enough for them to melt. Being a grandma feels like a second chance.

Still, there are days like today when grief surfaces. Grief for the grief I caused—especially in my daughter. So I pause. I sit with those feelings. I write letters I may never send. I let God touch those places. I pray one day we’ll sit down face-to-face and finish what healing we can, in love. (No plans to leave this earth any time soon, of course—but I don’t want to leave anything unsaid.)

So I’m writing this for the moms, dads, grandparents… for anyone who looks back with regret and wonders if it’s too late.

It’s not.

This is your permission to look back—not to wallow in guilt, but to grow. There is no condemnation in Christ. But there is transformation. You are allowed to change. You're allowed to be different than your parents were. That doesn’t make them horrible. Chances are, they were just repeating what they knew too.

But now? Now it’s time to break cycles and begin again.

Biblical parenting calls us to correct in love, not in anger. And if we’re honest, most of us disciplined out of frustration—not wisdom. But God’s correction never feels like punishment. It feels like love. Like guidance. Like grace.

That’s the kind of parent—and grandparent—I want to be. One who loves deeply, disciplines gently, and supports my grown children as they raise their own with even more wisdom than I had.

And I pray, I am the support and resource that they need when they need it.