It started with reading Edith Schaeffer's "The Tapestry". At first there was so much I wished to emulate. But as the pace picked up I began to feel a little uneasy... Does God really mean us to live at such a frantic pace?
And then I got curious about their son, Frank Schaeffer... I'd seen one of his books in my brother's church and that had been niggling me a long time. So I looked him up. He is NOT being kind to his parents. Rather venomous actually.
Edith and Francis Schaeffer
I've been thinking deeply ever since about parents and children and faith and passing it on. I won't share all my thoughts just now but I do agree with the person who commented on Frank Schaeffer's blog:
"Having read this and the previous post I find them sad. Sad in the sense that there seems to be such a difficulty in stepping back and seeing the wonder and mystery of people such as parents who, despite being deeply flawed, were still capable of making (I assume) positive contributions. Will our children remember us with the same degree of judgment and bitterness? "