A favorite memory

I recently attended three out of five weeks of a parenting class at Nags Head Church called "Intentional Parenting." It was an eye-opening experience that provided more than enough proof that I am (was?) a quick fix parent to my 4-year-old daughter.

In the second week of the class, I was asked the following question: "What is your favorite childhood memory?" I struggled to remember any memories from my childhood, which I blame more on my 49-year-old brain than anything my parents did, or didn't do, during my younger years.

When it was my turn to answer the question—thankfully I didn't have to answer first—I relayed the first memory that popped into my head.

My memory revolved around summer trips from upstate New York to Vermont to visit my grandparents. Charles and Gerda Barber would meet my mom and me halfway between Whitney Point, New York and Shoreham, Vermont. Don't ask me the exit and city we met at for my transfer! Specifically, my memory involved sitting up front and in between my grandparents on the center console for the entire drive. No car seat, no seatbelt, just a great time talking about the previous school year with my grandparents.

So, why would such a random memory pop into my head? I believe it was more than a loving memory I had of my grandparents. I think it may have been specific to a yearning deep inside me to break free from the stifling safety culture we all live in. A memory of when I lived in a carefree era, when nobody was concerned about keeping a child in a car seat until they reached a certain weight. As a pre-teen, I sat in the front of the car—not even in a seat—and at the time didn't think anything of it. And I survived.

In John Eldredge's book, "Wild at Heart," he points out that 'God created men to live a life of passion, freedom, and adventure.' Oh, how quickly we can lose all three.

Who is ready to return to the life God created for them? It's not too late.