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Many years ago, long before Facebook memes were a thing, I saw a plaque with an inscription which read, "Discipline your children now so correction officers don't have to do it later."
I was raised by parents who probably never saw that inscription but certainly believed in its message. They took to heart the Biblical admonition of Proverbs 13:24 ̶ "Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them."
You don't have to look far these days to see the disturbing results of parents who are unwilling to discipline their children. Someone (I don't know who) said, "Undisciplined children grow up to be undisciplined and disrespectful adults."
We six Huisman kids gave our parents ample opportunities to demonstrate their disciplinary love. My big mouth and my enthusiasm for using it made me a lightning rod for the rod of discipline.
Dad was an old-fashioned disciplinarian. My brothers and I would usually get a couple of verbal warnings; the final warning in Low German. If improved behavior failed to occur by that point, judgment and punishment were swift.
I loved my father but his style of discipline, while immediately effective, left some long-term resentment. As a parent myself, I found my mother's style of discipline more effective.
Mom exercised an element of grace in her discipline. When my big mouth got too big Mom warned me in Low German not to be a "beck stück." That means "mouth piece" but she made it sound so evil. If I failed to heed her warning, the loving hand of discipline was felt upon my face. Just one slap but unfortunately she had to repeat that one slap on several occasions.
I remember a time when Mom showed a real sense of grace. It was the day I hung a naughty word on the wall... several times.
Around second grade I enjoyed playing "school" with my oldest brother. I prepared worksheets for him to complete and when he had done so I graded them and affixed them to the wall.
One day Mom came into the room and asked what we were doing. I explained that we were playing school. She asked what was hanging on the wall.
"Worksheets," I explained, pointing to the title I had written on the papers.
"You misspelled 'worksheets,'" Mom said.
Stupid me. I should have known that "sheet" was spelled with a double "e" instead of an "i."
At this point, Mom could have disciplined me for writing a naughty word and hanging it on the wall ̶ repeatedly. Instead, she asked me to fix the worksheets on the wall and to spell the word correctly in the future. That's grace! (Besides, I think I saw her try to hide a smirk.)
This experience helped me become a better speller and taught me how a naughty word was spelled. It is good to learn from your mistakes.
Dad mellowed significantly in his later years and our relationship healed. One day he and I were visiting about the days when all of us kids were still at home. Dad grew reflective and said, "I didn't always do everything right with you boys."
From the context of our conversation I knew he was referring to some of the discipline he had executed years earlier. By now I had come to realize that even though he had been a harsh disciplinarian at times, Dad's tough love had prevented his kids from a lot of problems in the future.
"Let me ask you a few questions," I said. "How many of your sons beat their wives?"
"None," he said.
"How many of us boys cheat and steal?"
"None."
"And how many times did you have to bail any of us boys out of jail?"
"None," Dad admitted, though he never knew how close he came on that one.
I asked a couple more related questions, to which Dad had to answer "none."
"Well, Pop," I said, "maybe you did a better job than you think." Dad hesitantly grunted agreement and I changed the subject. The matter never came up again.
The older I get the more I appreciate having had parents who loved their children enough to correct and discipline us as needed. At least on those occasions when they found out we needed it.
(Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. ©2026 by Huisman Communications.)