Lessons From My Mother: Breaking or Continuing the Cycle.

Today, I took my girls to visit a relative I hadn’t seen in months. Life, work, and the endless juggle of responsibilities had kept me from making time for family, and I realized just how much I’d missed these simple connections.

After exchanging pleasantries and chatting with the children, I couldn’t help but notice the differences in how our families raised their kids. Not in a judgmental way — just a quiet observation of how our experiences shaped us differently. And yet, as I looked at my own children and thought about my upbringing, I realized something profound: no matter how much we strive to be different from our mothers, at our core, we often raise our children in ways that mirror the lessons they taught us.

We’ve evolved, adapted to the times, and tried to forge our own parenting path. And yet, certain values — the ones that formed us — seep in unconsciously. I found myself reflecting on my mother’s traditions, the ones she instilled without fanfare but with unwavering consistency.

In our Lebanese household, hospitality was sacred. Having a guest over wasn’t just an invitation — it was an honor. Whatever we had, however modest or grand, was offered generously. The guest was treated as a guest of God. Food was king, and it was our love language, a way of showing care and respect. Watching my girls interact, I realized I now uphold the same values. Even amidst the chaos of modern life, I find myself teaching them to offer freely, to honor those who enter our home, and to embrace generosity as a way of life.

Parenting is this curious dance between rebellion and inheritance. We think we’re breaking patterns, yet we carry forward the essence of our mothers in ways both subtle and striking. And sometimes, the most powerful lessons aren’t taught explicitly — they’re absorbed through observation, through the rhythm of daily life, and through quiet, consistent values.

I wonder often: which cycles am I breaking, and which am I continuing? And perhaps that’s the point. We don’t have to be completely different, nor do we need to replicate everything from the past. The magic lies in choosing what to preserve, what to evolve, and what to let go.

Today, walking home with my girls, I felt grateful. Grateful for my mother, for the lessons she passed down, and for the opportunity to reflect and consciously shape the future for my children. Parenting is never perfect, but it is profoundly human — a bridge between generations, a dance between what was and what we hope will be.