Anything Without a Lesson

The Book of Ron · 31 of 48 · 3 minute read

One evening we were sitting around the table playing spades. Cheryl was there, the girls were there, pizza boxes open, cards scattered, laughing the way families do when they feel safe with each other. We were about finished when one of the girls said something sharp to the other. It wasn’t cruel, just a teenage comment with a little edge on it. We started cleaning up, and I said, “Alright. It’s time for a lesson.”

Without missing a beat one of them said, “Grandpa… can we ever do anything without a lesson?” It wasn’t disrespectful. It was half frustration, half affection. But from that day on it became a standing commentary. Birthday cards had lessons. Christmas cards had lessons. Gifts had lessons attached. They would smile and say, “Why do you teach so many lessons?”

I always gave them the same answer. “Most children have their parents seven days a week. I get weekends and a few weeks in the summer. The amount of time I have to invest in you is limited. I made a covenant before the Lord to care for you, to teach you, and to help build a foundation under your feet so you can grow into strong young women. Lessons are how I know to do that. It’s how I learned to survive and how I learned to live.”

That night the lesson was simple. You have the right to disagree. You have the right to debate. You have the right to stand firmly on what you believe. But you never have the right to be mean.

Just as a husband and wife can argue and still love each other, you can stand your ground without tearing someone else down. Defend what you believe with your whole heart, but listen while you do it. Ask yourself if the ground you’re standing on is solid. Look for the places where you might be wrong. Try to understand not just what the other person is saying, but why they feel the way they do.

You never have the right to manipulate, to degrade, to insult, or to steal from someone the character they have earned. If you know a person is loving and kind, you do not get to call them cruel simply because you are angry. Meanness is a shortcut for weak arguments. Cruelty is a crutch when you cannot articulate your position. One sharp word at a time, you chip away at trust. One insult at a time, you damage the relationship. No one has the right to do that.

We folded the pizza boxes and stacked the cards. They looked at me again and said, smiling, “Grandpa… we can’t do anything without a lesson.” I told them one more time, “My obligation before the Lord was to invest in you until you turned eighteen. I will always try to love you, and I will always try to teach you. That is my job.” We owe that to the people we love.

There is a companion workbook for this story. Open the workbook (PDF).