I could say I just recently read the book Little Britches by Ralph Moody, which would be true, but the truth is that this most recent read now makes the fourth or fifth time I've devoured it, so it would definitely have to be listed as my all-time favorite book (other than the Bible).  Yes, I'm a 37 year old woman, and the book is about a 8 year old boy growing up on a ranch in Colorado in the early 1900's, but the stories and lessons will resound with anyone who values family, hard work, and building character.  Within the few years the story takes place, Ralph herds his neighbors cows, goes on a sole journey to find his friend Two Dog, faces the sherrif like a man, and learns to trick-ride his horse with his cowboy friend, Hi.  But more importantly, Ralph learns what it means to be a man, from his role model, his father.  After sneaking some chocolate, his father deals with him in this way:

He said, "Son, I realize a lot better than you think I do that you have been helping to earn the living for the family.  We might say the chocolate was yours in the first place.  If you had asked Mother or me for it, you could have had it without a question, but I won't have you being sneaky about things.  Now if you'd rather keep your own money separate from the family's, so you can buy the things you want, I think it might be a good idea."

 

I never knew till them how much I wanted my money to go in with Fathers....I felt I was beginning to be a man, but I guess I was still just a baby, because I hid my face against Father's stomach and begged him to let me put my money in with his.

 

Father hadn't been coughing nearly so much that fall as he used to, but he coughed and it seemed as if he choked a little before he answered me.  He said he didn't want a sneaky partner, but if I could be open and aboveboard he didn't know a man he'd rather be in business with.

 

I couldn't help crying some more when he told me that; not because my bottom was still burning, but just because I loved him.  I told him I'd never be sneaky again, and I'd always ask him before I did things.  We walked to the house together.  At the bunkhouse door he shook hands with me, and said, "Good night, partner."  When I went to sleep, my hand was still hurting--good--from where he squeezed it when we shook hands.

 

Ralph's father was the "perfect" father, he disciplined his son when he did wrong, but more importantly, he loved him and had his "heart".  Ralph learned to do the right thing, not because of fear of punishment, but because he loved his father so much he didn't want to disappoint him and wanted his dad to be proud of him.  In my own life, obeying God is so much more joyful when I do it because I love Him, not because of fear or because I'm required to.  As parents we should try to capture the "heart" of our children by loving them unconditionally, just as God loves us.