There comes a point in life when you realize your parents aren’t perfect. And then, as you get farther down the road, you realize they were far from perfect. It’s not just a moment of disillusionment—it’s an invitation to understanding, to grace, and to change.

For Heather, that realization didn’t come as a shock. She had always known her parents had problems. They came from troubled homes themselves, and while she might not have had the words for it as a child, she could feel the weight of what was unspoken—the tension, the unresolved hurt, the struggles they carried from their own upbringing. Now, as an adult, she sees more clearly: they didn’t know how to communicate.

Jamie grew up in a home where conflict followed a familiar, unhealthy rhythm—blow up, then shut up. There was no working things out, no model of resolution, just a cycle of explosion and silence. And as a child, there was always a lingering insecurity: When is this going to crumble?

The reality is, we don’t leave our family of origin behind when we grow up. We carry it with us. The patterns, the coping mechanisms, the ways we learned (or didn’t learn) to express love, handle conflict, and process emotions—all of it follows us into adulthood. Into friendships. Into marriage. Into parenting.

Jamie recently reached out to her cousin to ask how she would describe their grandmother. It was eye-opening. The older she gets, the more she realizes that when you’re in a family, your perception is shaped by the narratives you’ve been handed. That was her normal. She had a view of her grandmother shaped by her mother’s experience—just as her children will one day form their perceptions of family through her.

It’s a sobering thought: What am I handing down to my kids?

Heather has been working on a genogram—a visual representation of family patterns over generations. It’s a tool that reveals so much about what’s been passed down: broken relationships, struggles with anger, patterns of avoidance, cycles of addiction or dysfunction. But it also offers something else: a choice.

Pete Scazzero says, “You’ve got Jesus in your heart, but grandpa in your bones.”

There’s deep truth in that. The things of this world—family wounds, cultural norms, unhealthy patterns—get built into our DNA. But they don’t have to define us. We can see them, name them, and determine to live differently. We can take the good from our family and leave the bad.

And when we choose to work on ourselves, the next generation benefits.

Healing isn’t just personal—it’s generational. When we decide to unlearn toxic patterns, to communicate better, to love with wisdom and grace, we don’t just change our own lives. We change the trajectory of those who come after us.

It’s never too late to break the cycle. You’re never too far gone.

As parents, we have the opportunity—not just to change, but to bring our kids into the process. It’s important to share what we’re working on. To own our mistakes. To apologize, again and again.

What if our children saw us not as people pretending to have it all together, but as people who are willing to grow? What if they knew, deep in their bones, that we are committed to being better for them and for the generations to come?

Because that’s what love does. It doesn’t just accept the past as inevitable. It chooses a new future.

And that’s the beauty of grace: we don’t have to be perfect. But we do have to be willing to change.