I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice. And I know that same faith continues strong in you. –the Apostle Paul (2 Timothy 1:5, NLT)

My grandmother wasn’t Lois, but my mom was and she’s associated with my earliest spiritual memory.

I was three and at Bushkill Falls, “The ‘Niagara of Pennsylvania,’ and among the Keystone State’s most famous scenic attractions. This unique series of eight waterfalls, nestled deep in the wooded Pocono Mountains, is accessible through an excellent network of hiking trails and bridges….”[1]

It’s a beautiful place that fills your senses with the smell of pines, fabulous views of the falls and surrounding forest, and the constant and peaceful roar of rushing water.

Signs at the park warn visitors not to stray from the trail or jump the solid wood fences that block access to the falls. And for good reason: people have slipped, fallen, and there have been several deaths over the years. For example, in 1992, a 13-year-old ran ahead of his camp leader, slipped and tumbled down an icy, 100-foot bank, plunging into the frigid white torrent where he soon drowned.[2] And then, in 2011, another teenager walked off the marked trail and, climbing across a steep embankment, lost his footing and fell into the falls. He was pronounced dead at the scene.[3]

Flashback even further to 1969 and it was these kind of stories that were at the forefront of my mom’s mind that day. She had recently read of a child who had fallen to his death, and now here at Bushkill, with my father, six-month-old sister, and me, she understood why. Added to this, back then, access to the falls in some sections was blocked only by ropes, not sturdy fences. An unprotected and ornery three-year-old like me could easily go over the side, especially if they tripped while running.

As we entered the park and approached the falls, numerous signs gave warnings not to go near the ropes or climb the fence. Further, parents were instructed by park rangers to hold on tightly to their children and keep them close. Taking me aside, my mom looked straight in my eyes and told me about the boy who had fallen to his death. She told me candidly that if I didn’t listen and hold on tightly, I might fall and get killed. That was all the warning I needed. I clung fast to the fingers of her right hand as she straddled my sister against her with her other arm.

My mother’s hand was there. I could trust it and as long as I held it, I was safe. As an adult, I now know that was no small thing.

Trust. It’s the foundation of relationship: spouses, parents and children, friends, business partners—even our relationship with God. And, as many believe, part of the divine design is that children learn about trust ideally first from good parents. These experiences are far more formative—even spiritually—than any Sunday School class. As Erik Erikson (1902–1994) pointed out in his 8 Stages of Psychosocial Development, trust vs. mistrust is the first psychological conflict that must be successfully overcome in order for a child to develop into a healthy, well-adjusted adult:

“Unresponsive caregivers who do not meet their baby’s needs can engender feelings of anxiety, fear, and mistrust; their baby may see the world as unpredictable. If infants are treated cruelly or their needs are not met appropriately, they will likely grow up with a sense of mistrust for people in the world.”[4]

As Paul said to Timothy above, we need to “remember:” Responsive and responsible parents and grandparents are under-prized gifts that contribute greatly to a legacy of faith. We need to remember because, as humans, our default is to forget, hide, and blame. And, although time can heal and increase empathy, it can also deteriorate significant memories like it’s done to the image above.

No doubt, we all take for granted these seemingly small gifts of protection and safety. We do this when we focus on one or two flaws in our parents, and forget the myriad of instances when they held our hand, watched us while we played, lost sleep on our behalf, or sacrificed to cushion our way. We also do this when we undervalue the simple things we ourselves do or have done for our kids, grandkids, or nieces or nephews.

Two week ago, Pam and I, with two of our kids, watched our yearly scary movie for Halloween. This year it was A Quiet Place with John Krasinski and Emily Blunt. Not only was it a great sci-fi/thriller with moments of terror, but it gave an excellent picture of vigilant and loving parents who even prayed with their kids.

Today, I thank God for real-life parents who had their head in the game and gave us a secure foundation for genuine faith to grow. And, if you’re a parent and especially if you’re a stay-at-home mom or dad, thank you for all the unsung things you do every day—even instinctively—to provide your kids a safe world where they can learn to trust “Our Father.”

[1] https://www.visitbushkillfalls.com/

[2] http://articles.mcall.com/1992-02-03/news/2843774_1_pine-trees-water-robert-hicks

[3] http://www.poconorecord.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20110813/NEWS/110819865/-1/news

[4] https://courses.lumenlearning.com/teachereducationx92x1/chapter/eriksons-stages-of-psychosocial-development/