The oldest of my three kids is 10. I cannot say for certain whether any of them knows I am an atheist because we have never discussed it. They know I don’t go to church with them on Sundays. They must have seen that I never pray or say grace or mention God.
I feel no burning need to discuss atheism on my own. Yet I do have some writings of my own I’ve collected and edited over the years, some of which deal with topics of atheism and religion. Many more concern family, literature, and music.
My plan, so to speak, is to self-publish the collection and give it to each child at a certain age — maybe 11. I’ve not discussed the mater with my wife, but then I can’t imagine it would be an issue. Besides, there’s no use in discussing something that may not come to pass for months, if not years. The book is at about 50,000 words right now. I have edits and even additional articles to include, so I have time before I could say the book will definitely materialize.
Here, for your reading pleasure and comments, is the first writing: a letter to the kids telling them my expectations of them:
Dear [Kids]:
I have expectations of you. I expect you to behave as good and thoughtful people; to try your best always, and to keep your promises; to know yourselves, to set specific goals in all areas of your life, and to strive to reach them; to love and support your siblings as long as you live; to pursue your own happiness; and share your joys and yourself with the world.
In one sense, my expectations mean very little. You author your own lives, and you bear final responsibility for your choices. Your expectations of yourselves trump mine.
But I want you to know I have expectations because these express how I love you. My love includes envisioning you in pursuit of happy and great things. In our parenting, your mother and I have wanted to drive you to enjoy life on your own terms. We also want you to drive yourselves to help others and solve problems. Your life is a gift for sharing.
Surely, you will know times of sadness and maybe even hardship. Don’t worry too much about such times. Keep a positive attitude and look to build on the good things. Whenever I’ve felt lost, I have remembered that it only takes one good thing—one true statement, even—to turn things around.
Life’s a funny old dog, someone said. In the face of life’s absurdity, the best lesson remains that you are what you do. Another way of saying this: “How you behave every day defines who you are.”
And who you are includes your mother and me, your siblings, your grandparents, your extended family, your ancestors, your neighbors, your friends, and more. You never act alone, and you never live without comfort.
Love,
Dad
I wrote this because I always wished my own parents would have been clearer with me in their expectations. My parents were big on having my brothers and I find our own ways. This was nice, yet we also needed guidance. I did, anyway. And so with my Kids I seek to balance making my will known to the kids and allowing them to exert their own will.
In the same way, I wish to identify as an atheist with my kids without imposing the view on them. If they determine that they too are atheists, all the better I think.
