A Reflection on Generational Grace, Growth, and the Gift of Perspective
Opening Reflection (2025 Perspective)
There’s something sacred about revisiting your own words after time has passed—like digging up an old journal entry and realizing how much you’ve grown, yet how true the roots of your wisdom still run.
I wrote this post back in December 2013, before I became a mother. I was newly married, navigating the transition from grief to grace, and learning how to stay connected to my family after loss had nearly torn me away. Now, as a mama of three beautiful neurodivergent children, the words below feel even more urgent—and full-circle.
So, to my nieces, nephews, and anyone in between trying to bridge the gap between generations, this message is still for you.
Kids, Your Parents Really Do Understand You
Let me start by saying—back when I originally wrote this—I wasn’t a parent yet. But I was, and still am, a very proud Auntie. I call myself a “Rent-A-Kids” specialist—meaning, when your mama or daddy drops you off, I treat you like my own. No refunds. 💁🏾♀️
Now, I won’t claim to be the world’s best aunt. I’ve made my share of missteps. I’m the youngest child in a big, beautiful, blended family. Some of my nieces and nephews are older than me. Many of them now have teenage and even adult children of their own.
While I was enrolled at It’s All About Me University (also known as my 20s), I was learning to live after losing both of my parents within five years of each other. I was healing from an emotionally, spiritually, and financially toxic relationship. And at one point, I truly believed my presence—or absence—wouldn’t even be felt in the patchwork of our family’s story.
I was wrong. Deeply wrong.
I grew up surrounded by family—cousins, uncles, aunts, siblings who helped raise me. But when I pulled away in grief, I unintentionally missed the joy of seeing my nieces and nephews grow up, have babies, and blossom.
For the past several years, I’ve been mending that bridge. Reconnecting. Showing up. Catching up. And now? I get the privilege of being the “cool Auntie” who’s even accepted as a social media friend (I’m careful not to embarrass y’all, I promise!). 😎
One day, as I was scrolling through my feed, a status from one of my nieces caught my eye. Usually, I let the teen banter slide unless it’s something wild. But this one? It stopped me in my tracks.
It reminded me:
Everything they’re feeling? We’ve felt it too.
What’s wild is how familiar it all feels. The angst, the opinions, the dramatic posts—it’s déjà vu. The only difference? When your parents were your age, they were saying the same stuff… offline. In notebooks. Over phone calls. At sleepovers. In whispered secrets under blankets.
Kids, your parents do understand you.
They may not always say it, but trust—they’ve been where you are.
What makes today different is the exposure. Back then, our foolishness could be forgotten by Monday. Now? It can go viral by dinner. That one reckless post could cost you your scholarship, your job—or even your freedom.
So when your parents “go off” on you, or you think they’re being dramatic or out of touch, I want you to pause.
Remember this:
They’re not just parenting you from a place of rules—they’re parenting you from a place of experience. Love. Fear. Wisdom. Regret.
They want you to go further than they did—without having to fall as hard.
Full-Circle Moment (2025)
Now, as a mother myself, I feel this even more deeply. I don’t just want my kids—or my nieces and nephews—to listen. I want them to live. Freely. Fully. Faithfully.
Because the mistakes we made? They bought the wisdom we now offer. And love doesn’t let loved ones walk into storms without offering an umbrella.
Scripture Anchor
Proverbs 4:7 (NIV)
“The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding.”
Call to Action
If you’re a young person reading this: the next time an auntie, uncle, or parent gives you advice, don’t roll your eyes. Ask questions. Listen for the story behind the scolding.
And if you’re a parent or auntie like me, don’t stop showing up. Keep building the bridge—even when it feels one-sided. Our presence matters more than we know.
© 2025, Lela Fagan. All rights reserved.
