An Incident from Childhood
As any parent knows, a child is shaped most by what a parent does, not what they say. This is not to discount a parent’s word; before a child has the chance to see their role model in action, or to watch their life for many years, they will take a parent at their word. For the most part, children are concrete in their thinking, and if a parent says so, that’s enough for a small tyke. But as our character and intellect develop, we begin to question what we’ve been taught, and we wrestle with the integrity of a parent’s word. In the novel To Kill a Mockingbird, adolescent Jem Finch is struggling with the image of his father, Atticus. He sees his dad as older, quieter, and in essence, ineffective. But his perception is challenged and changed through the actions of his father. In a different way, I remember having my perceptions of my mother challenged and changed; in one instance in particular.
When I was 9 years old, I truly believed everything my mother told me, and was very literal in my interpretations of her words. I thought my mom was perfect. She loved God, took us to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. She donated her pennies and nickels to the missionaries. She didn’t work outside our home, choosing to baby-sit instead, so she could be home when we returned from school. We even had a little girl whose mother was a troubled teenager, and who would leave the girl with us for days at a time. She and my mother had an agreement that we would keep the child overnight, and she would go with us wherever we went if her mother was not at our house to pick her up by 6. More often than not, she spent the night with us.
My mother witnessed to this teenager on many occasions, and I remember seeing them sitting in our living room, crying and praying. The girl could barely take care of herself, let alone a toddler. Sometimes she would come pick up her daughter with glassy eyes and the sweet smell of smoke on her coat. Many times, there was a man driving her car, but never the same man twice.
One Monday morning, this mother came to drop off her daughter, and told my mom that she had given her life to Christ. She looked different to me; her hair was combed, her eyes were clear, and she seemed wide open, as opposed to the closed off look she normally wore. I was overjoyed, because after all, this is what my mother had told me we were here for; to reach the lost, to lend a helping hand, to show the love of God.
On Friday evening of the same week, we were planning to go visit some friends, and needed to be there by 6 o’clock in the evening. When the mother wasn’t there by 5:45, my mom decided we would take the toddler with us, and her mother could pick her up in the morning. But when we arrived home around ten that evening, the mother was sitting in our driveway, waiting. She was not happy, but I do not recall her being angry, or saying anything rude or unkind. She merely mentioned that the agreement was 6, and that she had been looking around town for us since 5:50. What I do remember is my mother’s reaction; the woman who had taught me to love others, care for others, and be Jesus to others, completely lost it. I heard the word "bitch" for the first time in my life, and even though I didn’t know what it meant, I understood that it wasn’t good, and I could tell by the look on the girl’s face that it hurt her deeply. My mom went off about everything; the girl’s drug addiction, her promiscuity, her lack of parenting skills. The girl silently picked up her daughter and left in tears. We never saw her again.
It took me quite some time to wrap my mind around the distance between my mother’s words and her actions. I kept waiting for her to call the girl and apologize, but she didn’t. I felt as if I had taken the words for myself, rather than hearing them directed at someone else, because they struck the core of me, and shook my belief that my mother was above reproach. It took many years to realize that no one is perfect, and everyone snaps at some point. My mother has no idea the impact of her words on that night.
In To Kill a Mockingbird, Jem sees his father as an old man, incapable of throwing a ball, tired and boring. But like most boys, he wants to be like him, at least, some parts of him. He dreams of becoming a lawyer like his father, although he plans to do it when he’s young.
Imagine the feelings that must have gone through Jem when he saw his father take dead aim at the rabid dog and bring him down. The realization that this “old” man was someone he did not know, with abilities he had not seen. Imagine how this seemingly small instance shaded his other perceptions of Atticus. Miss Maudie’s explanation to Jem of why he hadn’t seen his father shoot a gun before seems to resonate Atticus’ character to Jem. It would be like a lens suddenly coming into focus; everything he knew about Atticus that had been blurred would become clear. The story says it eloquently:
“Naw, Scout, it’s something you wouldn’t understand. Atticus is real old, but I wouldn’t care if he couldn’t do anything-I wouldn’t care if he couldn’t do a blessed thing.”
Jem picked up a rock and threw it jubilantly at the carhouse. Running after it, he called back: “Atticus is a gentleman, just like me!”
It may be easier at first glance to see the contrast between Jem’s experience and mine, but the comparison is there. We both learned lessons about our parents and their character in one seemingly simple action. And these lessons undoubtedly shaped us from that moment on.
