“Parental Sense and the Streetlight Standard” June 23, 2025 – A Reflection on Raising and Being Raised

“Parental Sense and the Streetlight Standard”

June 23, 2025 – A Reflection on Raising and Being Raised

Today I was with Barbi and Bella, visiting Barbi’s mom at the assisted living facility. At one point, I stepped out to grab something to drink, and on my way back, I passed a kind-looking woman sitting nearby who smiled and said hello. I paused for a moment, greeted her, and we ended up in a conversation.

We started talking about memories—how some stick with you more than others—and I asked if she remembered one of her early teachers. She didn’t hesitate.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Mrs. McGlasson.”

And her face changed.

She went on to explain that while Mrs. McGlasson may have seemed nice on the surface, she was not kind to the children. She wasn’t warm. She wasn’t flexible. She wasn’t… a parent. And that was the point she kept coming back to:

“She didn’t have kids of her own. And you could tell.”

That simple truth opened a door to a deeper conversation—one that stayed with me all day.

I told her a story that still stings in my heart. Bella was five years old. We were at church. She had just gone into Sunday School, and the woman leading the class—who also wasn’t a parent—was barking orders at those kids like they were military recruits.

“Sit down. Don’t say a word. Stay in line.”

No grace. No gentleness. No understanding of who kids are or what they need.

It broke me as a dad. I still remember the way it felt to see someone so disconnected from the heart of a child try to lead one. She thought she was doing the right thing. But she didn’t know what she didn’t know.

That’s when I looked at the woman beside me—Wilma—and said, “You know, there’s a big difference between common sense and parental sense.”

Common sense says kids should be quiet and behave.

Parental sense says they’re learning—and sometimes learning is messy.

It’s like yelling at a toddler for falling when they’re trying to walk for the first time.

You’d never do that.

You’d encourage them.

You’d cheer for the attempt.

You’d lift them up and help them try again.

That’s when Wilma began to share her story.

She told me about her second marriage and the three boys she helped raise from her husband’s previous relationship. Their biological mother had abandoned them, and Wilma discovered over time that these boys had endured a lot—physically present, emotionally neglected. She recalled how the oldest would sleep on the couch with his younger brothers at night, scared and quiet, with the lights on.

She said they didn’t even cry.

Not because they weren’t hurting—but because they had learned not to feel.

Wilma did everything she could—feeding them, grooming them, teaching them how to live again. But it came at a cost. Her own two children—who had been raised with love and structure—began to feel overlooked. The time and emotional energy required to help the boys caused a shift, and there was resentment.

Not because of favoritism, but because of imbalance.

And Wilma carried the weight of it all.

From there, the conversation turned to parenting in today’s world.

Wilma and I both expressed our concern that modern culture seems determined to replace the influence of parents with the influence of screens, trends, and ideologies.

Kids are being told to chase happiness without responsibility.

To reject discipline.

To ignore the wisdom of their parents.

And what it’s producing is a generation without direction.

But not all is lost.

Wilma shared how proud she is of her son and daughter, who are now raising six grandchildren with structure, love, and real values. They’re not perfect. But they’re present. And they’re raising kids who know they are loved.

That made me think of my own upbringing.

My mom had one rule I’ll never forget:

“Be home before the streetlights come on.”

And if I wasn’t? I missed dinner.

Not as a punishment—but as a consequence.

Simple. Clear. Loving.

And it stuck.

As we wrapped up our conversation, I shared something I heard once from a billionaire being interviewed:

“True wealth isn’t money. It’s when your grown children want to come back and spend time with you.”

Wilma smiled. She got it.

Because that’s what we all really want—to raise children who grow up and still want to come home. Not because they have to.

But because they want to.

So here’s what I’m taking from today:

Discipline with love. Structure with compassion. Guidance with grace.

Don’t expect perfection. Teach persistence.

And when they stumble, bend down and walk with them until they learn to stand.

Remember the streetlight rule:

Clear boundaries. Real consequences. And a home they always feel safe returning to.