Family and upbringing

A father said to his son:

“Son, watch your step carefully.”

The boy replied:

“You’d better watch yours, Dad. I’m following in your footsteps.”

Moral: The most powerful form of guidance is personal example. Children often imitate not what adults say, but the steps they take.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

“Wise elder,” I asked, “what should I buy for the holiday?”

He replied:

“Cheer a few people up. Make a few children smile. And, if you can, earn the prayers of a few poor people.”

Moral: The most precious gift is measured not by money, but by kindness and attention. What makes a celebration meaningful is sometimes not what you buy, but what you give.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Erich Fromm

I am one year old—completely happy, because my mother is always beside me.

I am two—my mother is with me only sometimes. I wonder what is happening.

I am three—my mother is at work, and my nanny is with me.

I am five—my mother is in a meeting, and my grandmother is with me.

I am seven—my mother is at a seminar; I am at school with my teacher.

I am thirteen—a teenager. My mother still has to work, and my friends are beside me.

I am seventeen—my mother comes home exhausted. I am at school, in class, or at a café with friends.

I am twenty—young. My mother is not at home, but my friends are with me.

I am twenty-three—I have started working. My mother is home now, while I am at work.

I am thirty—and I wonder: when did my mother and I last spend a lovely time together? There is something strange here.

I am thirty-five—married. My mother lives in her home, and I in mine.

I am forty—my mother waits for me just as I once waited for her as a child.

I am fifty—I am older now, but one wish remains unchanged: to join my heart to her heart, embrace her, and lay my head on her tired knees.

I am fifty-five—I am now always beside a mother, the mother of my children. My own mother has passed away, and I live with the ache of missing her.

In the daily course of life, our most serious negligence is sometimes not giving enough time to our children and those we love. Children are the most precious characters in the magnificent film of life that changes rapidly before our eyes. If we fail to notice them growing, those passing moments can never be recovered.

Life has no stop, start, forward, or back buttons that can show past scenes again. May we understand that while there is still time.

Love your child today. Hold them, take their hand, and remain beside them. Do not miss this day of his childhood, because tomorrow will already be another day.

“A mother’s love is a selfless, protective, and warm refuge. Precisely because it is unconditional, it cannot be obtained by force.”

Moral: A mother’s love is unconditional and irreplaceable. Make time for those you love today, because time is the most precious thing we can never recover.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

As a child, the Turkish writer Fakir Baykurt (1929–1999) once said to his mother, “Mother, my heart wants tea — come, let’s drink a cup together.” She took him to Topal Hüseyin’s teahouse and ordered a cup for him.

Eager to drink, he took a large mouthful before realizing how hot it was. Startled by the pain, he dropped the cup.

Because it fell on the earth, the glass did not break. He expected his mother to slap him, but she simply asked for another cup.

This time Baykurt drank the second tea while blowing on it. For years afterward, he asked why she had not slapped him. She never answered.

Years later his mother, Elif Khanum, attended a lesson at the village school where he taught. He recalled:

“During the lesson I grew agitated, worked myself up, and roared. Afterward, outside, I asked, ‘Well, Mother, what did you think of my teaching?’

“‘Eh, what can I say, son — it wasn’t bad.’

“‘The inspectors praise me and give me good marks, and all you say is that it wasn’t bad?’

“She said these words, which could be a lesson for everyone: ‘For years you’ve asked why I didn’t slap you over the tea. Now listen.

“‘If I had lost my temper on the day you spilled the tea, the lion inside you would have withdrawn in hurt. If I had beaten you, that lion would have died. Then you could not have become such a teacher. Behave as I did, and stay calm. Don’t try to kill the lion inside these children with a beating.’”

Moral: Don't kill the "lion" inside a child — his self-confidence — by beating him. True upbringing is given not through fear, but through patience and love.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

After a bitter argument with his father, a young man left home. Hurt and angry, his father forbade even his son's name to be mentioned in the house. Each night, his mother sat on his bed and fell asleep holding his pillow close, breathing in its familiar scent.

“I miss our son,” she pleaded. “Let’s find him and bring him home.” But her husband refused.

A long time passed.

One day, unable to bear seeing his wife always in tears, the father took a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

“You’ll find him at this address,” he said. “But don’t tell him I gave it to you.”

He said a few more things, but she seemed not to hear him; only the address stayed in her mind. Overjoyed, she hurried out. The address led to a repair shop, where she found her son working in overalls. For a few minutes she watched him through her tears, then walked toward him. He had heard nothing from his family and believed they had forgotten him. Startled to see her, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

He asked after everyone except his father. Finally, he said:

“How is that man? Is he still angry?”

His mother avoided the question.

“Come home, son,” she said.

“No, Mother. I can’t live under the same roof as him again.” He turned back to his work.

She watched him for a while, then called him over to give him the sweets she had prepared.

He accepted them, but said:

“Please don’t insist. I’m not coming home. He hasn’t looked for me once. He doesn’t care about me.”

His mother lowered her head.

“Well, if you’re determined to stay, that’s your choice. But your father asked me to tell you to keep away from the friend you’ve been spending time with this past month. He says that person is no good for you, and that you should make peace with your old friend.”

Her son froze in astonishment.

Back at home, the mother confronted her husband.

“If you knew where he was, why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you seemed so calm?”

The father, who had always seemed irritable, softened and tears ran from his eyes.

“He is my very soul,” he said. “My soul.”

“How long have you known?” she asked.

“Since the day he left. Sometimes I went during my lunch break to watch from a distance and to see what he was eating and drinking. That’s why I came home late some evenings too. I went to see what he was doing and who he was with.”

As the parents held each other and cried, someone knocked. The mother wiped her eyes and opened the door.

Their son stood there. He kissed their hands and embraced them. Now he understood: the father he thought had forgotten him had never stopped watching over him.

Moral: Don't hide your love, show it. Sometimes a timely step can prevent years of resentment.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

My beloved son,

Cultivate the understanding that helps you build good relationships. It is an inexhaustible source of happiness and joy.

Our desire for life is never fully satisfied. Whether a life is long or short does not determine its worth.

Fruit is ready to fall only when it is ripe. In the same way, people have always preferred those who have lived long and gained experience.

In youth, people often do wrong without thinking. Later, when they remember them, those wrongs pierce their hearts like a dagger and weigh on their souls.

Those who follow an honest path in youth earn respect in old age.

Strength is a good thing, but it must be guided by reason.

Allah, the Creator of all worlds, did not place us here to live forever. He willed that at the end of life a person taste death.

By Allah’s leave, two habits have kept me healthy up to this age. I have tested them for years: eating in moderation, and walking so that what I eat can be digested.

I also want you to understand that there are three kinds of people.

The first think clearly and can more or less see the future and think about it.

The second cannot tell whether their path is straight or crooked, and they come to that state through the influence of others, not by their own wish, but accept advice and listen when it is given.

The third are aware of nothing, yet believe they know everything and refuse all advice. They are the most unfortunate of all.

My son,

If Almighty Allah has made you one of the people I placed in the first group, I will rejoice.

If you belong to the second, listen to good advice.

Do not become one of the third. Such people earn favor neither with Allah nor with others.

Moral: Wisdom is the source of happiness, and strength is the servant of wisdom. He who listens to advice will be exalted; but he who thinks he knows everything will perish.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A grandfather took his grandson to the supermarket. As they filled their basket, the boy kept shouting, “Buy me this! Buy me that!” Each time, his grandfather said, “Stay calm, Arif. We’ll go home as soon as we’ve finished.” Finally, his frustration reached its limit, and the boy grabbed a Kinder Surprise egg from a shelf and crushed it underfoot. “Stay calm, Arif,” the grandfather repeated. Then he turned to an employee. “I’m very sorry. I’ll pay for that too.”

After they paid and left, a woman who had watched them approached the grandfather. “I admired how you treated Arif. You are a very patient person. Bless you!” she said. The grandfather thanked her and smiled. “The boy’s name is Rafiq. I’m Arif.”

Moral: Being able to control yourself in a tense moment is a sign of true strength. Keeping calm sometimes means mastering yourself, not others.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

As a father and his young daughter crossed a bridge, he grew anxious.

“Hold my hand tightly, sweetheart, so you don’t fall into the river.”

The little girl replied:

“No, Dad. You hold mine.”

Puzzled, he asked:

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big difference. If I am holding your hand and something happens to me, I might let go. But if you hold mine, I know you won’t let go, whatever happens.”

Moral: The power of love is in not letting go in a difficult moment. Do not simply wait for those you love to reach for you; reach out and hold on to them.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

“I’m tired, Mom.”

“Of what, son?”

“Everything. Work, friends, going out, trying to please everyone. I’m exhausted.”

“Rest your head in my lap, son. Let it all go for a moment. Give your pains to me.”

“Thank you, Mom. I’m so glad you’re here. With you, I forget both my age and everything I have lived through. May you live long.”

“A mother is the one who gives life, son. I am always beside you.”

“Mother, we tire you a great deal too. Forgive us.”

“You don’t wear me out. I’m tired because I no longer have a mother of my own. There’s no lap where I can rest my head. Don’t you wear yourself out, son. Know the worth of what you have.”

Moral: A mother’s embrace is the most comfortable refuge in the world. Whoever has a mother always has a place to lay their weariness. Know the worth of what you have.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

The man set the suitcases against the wall, straightened up, and took a deep breath. “It’s a lovely place, Mom.”

“Of course it is, son,” she replied. For a while they stood silently, looking around the room.

Then the woman opened her small suitcase and took out her nightgown, slippers, a few towels, and a framed picture. She placed the picture on the table next to her bed.

In the photograph, a small boy in school uniform stood stiffly, his eyes brimming with tears and his lips pressed together.

The man approached the window and opened the curtain. A pale daylight filled the room. It was freezing outside. He leaned his hands on the heater and watched the muddy cars passing by for a while. Then, without even turning his head, he asked, “Is this closet enough for you, Mom?”

Lost in thought, she did not even hear her son. Seated on the bed, leaning slightly to one side, she was gazing at the frightened boy in the worn frame.

It was a picture they had taken on the first day of school.

The memory returned. The day before school began, she had spent hours telling him how wonderful it would be. Even so, she had barely persuaded him to enter the classroom. She waited all day, reassuring him at every break: “I’m here, son. I’m waiting for you.” Each time he held her hand even tighter and cried. “Don’t leave me, Mom. I’m scared.”

The sun was setting. Her son took his hands off the heater and leaned on the misted window. “Shall we open the other suitcase and put your things away?”

“Don’t let me keep you. I can do it. There isn’t much.” She reached out her trembling hands and took her son’s hand. For a moment she seemed about to say more. Then she swallowed. “The children will be worried too.”

The door closed with a creak. She was left alone with the peeling paint and with the frightened son in the photograph, standing like a soldier. After sitting on the bed a little, she put on her slippers and went to the window. Below, her son was getting into his car.

The old woman was afraid. Despite the fact that she had listened for hours the day before to how beautiful this place was, she was still afraid.

His handprint still marked the glass. She pressed her cheek against it, her eyes filled and her lips pressed together.

“Don't leave me, son, I'm so scared,” she whispered.

Her words seemed to melt into the misted glass and flow toward her son as he waved from the car.

That night, those who lived on the same floor heard her crying. Sobs wandering the corridors at night were the only sound they had grown used to at the nursing home.

Moral: The child who once held his mother’s hand may grow up and leave her alone. Loyalty to a parent is not only material care, but not depriving them of love and attention.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Only my mother’s tears are real; all the rest are pretense.

Moral: In the world you may see much love, but a mother’s selfless, sincere love is irreplaceable.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A boy constantly defied his parents, neglected his schoolwork, and did not fully complete his homework. Even when his mother beat him and his father shut him in a room as punishment, it did no good.

One day, on the way to school, his mother saw a crowd around a bear trainer. As the man beat a tambourine, a bear with a ring through its nose performed for the spectators.

“I can’t manage my own child,” she thought, “yet this man can train a bear.”

She approached him. “How do you make that wild animal obey? I can’t get my son to listen.”

“Everything has its method,” he said with a smile. “I have mine.”

“Then please help me.”

The trainer looked at the boy. “There is no difficult task. Entrust him to me for a week, and I’ll make him obedient.”

The woman was happy and started taking the boy to the bear trainer every day.

Though only a few days had passed, his behavior slowly began to improve, and he no longer objected to his mother. After a week the boy became exactly as she wanted, and she was delighted. She thanked the trainer and offered him her blessings.

The neighbors were very surprised by this. That disobedient, rebellious boy was gone, and in his place was a calm, peaceful, well-mannered boy.

His teacher was pleased with the change and congratulated the mother. Soon, however, a different problem emerged. Though he was no longer as arrogant and angry as before, he stole classmates’ belongings, did secret things, and lied in plain sight. The teacher phoned the mother and said, “I don’t know what you will do, but your child has become very strange. He has started stealing and lying.” Desperate, she went looking for the trainer, but he had left.

A neighbor suggested that she consult a wise, kindhearted man.

She took her son to him and explained. “Let him visit me for a week,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.” She agreed.

She began bringing the boy to him.

After two meetings, the man spoke to her with concern. “What have you done to this child? I see animal traits in him.” She was surprised. “I haven’t done anything. I only used to take him to the bear trainer because he was so naughty.”

“An animal trainer?” he exclaimed. “Can an animal trainer raise a child? Animals are trained with fear, and people with conscience. Animals are sometimes brought to order by beating, cursing, and punishment; if that fails, they are shut in a dark room and left helpless. How could you entrust your own child to an animal trainer?”

“Upbringing is not pressing the child, but finding the way to his heart,” he continued. “Take your child and go home. Be close to him, kiss and embrace him, listen to him, and do not withhold your love. As he sees that he is loved, his trust in you will grow and his manner will soften.”

“The remedy for your child is neither the bear trainer nor I; it is only you, the parents.”

Moral: A child is raised not with fear, but with love. A child is raised not by a trainer or an outsider, but by a loving parent.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A little boy entered the shop after seeing a sign in the window saying “We have puppies for sale.”

“How much do you sell puppies for?” he asked.

“Between thirty and fifty dollars. Each one has a different price,” said the shopkeeper.

The boy emptied his pocket onto the counter and carefully counted the money.

“I only have thirteen dollars and twenty-seven cents,” he said, disappointed. Then he took a deep breath.

“Can I at least see the puppies?”

The shopkeeper smiled and called to his wife. She came from the back room with five plump, fluffy puppies following her. One struggled to keep up. The boy fixed his eyes on that puppy.

“What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he walk?” he asked.

“The vet says he was born with a congenitally defective fibula. Walking will always be difficult for him.”

The boy’s face lit up.

“That’s the puppy I want.”

“I don’t think you’ll want to buy him, my child. You can have him for free.”

The little boy was very angry. He looked the shopkeeper straight in the eye and said:

“I don’t want him for free. He’s worth just as much as the others. I’ll give you what I have now, then bring five dollars every week until I’ve paid thirty.”

The shopkeeper said:

“You won’t really want that puppy, son. He won’t be able to run and play with you like the others.”

“But we should give him a chance too. He is as valuable as the other puppies.” The boy bent down and raised his trouser leg, revealing a leg weakened by polio and supported by metal braces. He looked up and spoke softly.

“I can’t run and play either. This puppy and I both need friends who will understand us and stand by us.”

Moral: Every living thing needs a friend who will understand and support it. The one who is different is just as valuable as the others; we need to give him a chance.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

After his wife died, the father scorned his young son who constantly suffered from illnesses, calling him a “rotten seed,” and sent him to an orphanage.

Years passed.

One day he saw his grown son outside a school. He could not believe his eyes. The boy had grown healthy and strong. Filled with regret, the father stared at his bright eyes.

“I did not believe you would recover or that you would become anybody. You have become a strapping wrestler. How did this miracle happen? How did you get free of the illnesses?”

With moist eyes he fixed his gaze on the father who had once scorned him, and pointed to the elderly woman who was approaching with a smile.

“When you sent me away, you said a rotten seed could never grow. She adopted me and never stopped caring for me. She told me, ‘Every seed watered with love will sprout.’”

Moral: Words either build or destroy. It is possible to elevate or destroy someone with a single word—every seed watered with love will germinate.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

We lived in a remote village without even a proper road. My mother kept cooking spinach. As a child, I thought that after my father died, my mother’s mind had become confused.

“You need to eat a lot, it gives strength to the body,” my mother would say, and for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, she would only feed us spinach, and always cornbread alongside it. I hated spinach already, I couldn’t stand to see this vegetable.

“When I’m grown and have a job and a family, there’ll be no spinach in my house,” I told her. She said she looked forward to that day and promised to dance at my wedding, however old she was.

The day came, I moved from our village to the city to study in high school. I somehow managed to make ends meet with the small scholarship I received. Once a month, when I came home, I didn't want to eat a spoonful of the spinach dish my mother put on the table. I only wanted to go back to the dormitory and eat delicious food.

I completed university, a master’s degree, and a doctorate with government loans. By then, my mother was old and bent. When I came to the village with the girl I was going to marry and we held the wedding, she kept her promise and danced at my wedding, tears streaming down her face. I did not understand those tears then.

Years passed. My mother passed away two years ago.

One day, in my mother’s old chest I found the memoir notebook she kept in those days. On one page she had written: “All I had left were spinach seeds. I kept planting spinach, and a little corn as well. There was no money. I kept cooking this food so my children would not go hungry. But I did not complain. I told them I served spinach three times a day because it was good for them. Saying it broke my heart. For my children, this was all I could do. I love them more than my own life.”

At fifty, I learned to love spinach. My wife keeps asking in surprise why I buy spinach so often for the house. She thinks I love spinach. She does not know that its smell brings back the sacrifices my mother made to raise me and the sight of her dancing through tears at my wedding.

Moral: Years later, we often understand a mother’s sacrifice from the time when she had nothing. Love is sometimes hidden in a plate of simple food.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A king once dreamed that all his teeth had fallen out. He summoned an interpreter of dreams and asked what the dream meant.

The interpreter said:

“Your Majesty, all your relatives will die before you.”

The king was angered by the answer and sent him away. Then he called another interpreter and asked the same question.

The second man replied:

“Your Majesty, you will outlive everyone else in your family.”

Very pleased with the answer, the king rewarded the man, and sent him on his way.

Moral: The same truth can be spoken harshly or with tact. Words can wound or heal; wisdom lies in knowing how to speak them.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

For a father — honor,

For a mother — respect,

For a child — compassion,

For a spouse — love,

For a friend — loyalty,

For society — service,

For the deceased — prayer,

For the world — humanity,

For the hereafter — goodness in this world.

Moral: The most beautiful gift is to show each person the care they need: honor for a father, respect for a mother, loyalty to a friend, service to society.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

The female bird builds the nest.

Moral: A woman’s work builds a home and holds a family together. That work deserves recognition and appreciation.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

In a village there lived a boy who was very quick-tempered and impatient. Even the slightest remark would make him angry, and when he lost his temper, he did not hesitate to hurt the person in front of him.

His father was deeply concerned about this side of his son's character. One day, he gave him a bag of nails and said:

‘My son, whenever you get angry with someone and say something hurtful, hammer one of these nails into the fence around the yard.’

At first, the boy thought this was pointless. But the next day he became angry and hammered a nail into the fence. Then he lost his temper again and hammered in another. As the days passed, the number of nails in the fence began to grow.

After a while, the boy began to pay attention to his behavior. Reaching for a nail every time he became angry made him think. At last, one day he went to his father and said:

‘Father, I will try not to lose my temper anymore.’

His father smiled and replied:

‘Very good. Now, for every day that you control yourself and hurt no one, pull one nail out of the fence.’

The boy did as he was told. Days passed, then months, and at last all the nails had been removed from the fence.

The boy called out joyfully to his father:

‘Father, look! I have pulled out all the nails.’

His father took him over to the fence and said quietly:

‘You have removed all the nails. But look: the marks they left are still there. The same thing happens when you get angry and lash out at someone with your words. You may apologize afterward, you may feel sorry, and that person may even forgive you. But a wound in the heart does not always heal without a scar.’

The boy looked at the holes in the fence for a long time.

From that day on, when he became angry, he learned first to remain silent and then to think.

Moral: A word spoken is like a nail: it is driven in during a moment of anger, but its mark may remain for a long time. That is why we must think before speaking and pause before causing hurt.

Etibar Siracsoy

One evening, a little boy asked his father, “How much do you earn in an hour?” The father wanted to know why. “I’m just curious,” the boy said. Reluctantly, his father answered, “A hundred dollars.”

The boy looked down, then asked, “Could you lend me fifty?” His father grew angry, assuming he wanted a pointless toy or something unnecessary. He refused and sent the boy to bed. The child went to his room and quietly closed the door.

After pacing for a while, the father calmed down. He had not even asked what the money was for. Feeling guilty, he knocked on his son’s door. “Are you awake?” The boy said he was still awake.

He went in and apologized. “I had a difficult day and took it out on you. Here are the fifty dollars. Spend them as you wish.” The boy joyfully thanked him and pulled some money from beneath his pillow. As he counted it, his father’s irritation returned. “Why ask for more when you already have money?”

“Because I didn’t have enough. Now I have exactly one hundred dollars.” “Can I buy an hour of your time? Could you come home early tomorrow and eat with me?”

These words deeply moved the father, and his eyes filled with tears. He hugged his little son and apologized to him.

Moral: The greatest need of children is the attention, love, and time spent with them by their parents.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

On a cold winter evening, an elderly couple entered McDonald’s. The husband bought one hamburger, a large portion of fries, and a large Coke. At their table, he cut the burger in half and put that half in front of his wife, counted the fries one by one, and gave her half. Then he took a sip of Coke and passed it to his wife.

Other customers watched sympathetically. “Poor things. They’re sharing one meal.”

But while the man ate eagerly, his wife left her food untouched, taking only an occasional sip of Coke.

At last one young employee’s patience ran out, and he approached the couple.

“Excuse me, sir. I’ve been watching you for a while: you are eating, but your wife hasn’t touched the food. If she doesn’t like it, could I bring her something else?”

The elderly man said:

“Thank you, but we’re quite happy. We’ve been married for sixty years. We share everything.”

Still puzzled, the employee turned to the woman.

“Then why aren’t you eating? What are you waiting for?”

The old woman pointed to her husband and replied:

“The teeth, dear. I’m waiting for the teeth.”

Moral: No one should be left in need of the one they love. May Allah not leave anyone helpless, even in their own family.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

When we were schoolchildren, we spent the summer holidays with our family in our garden. My late father wanted to accustom us to hard work, so he left us chores while he went to work. We watered the melons he had planted. We carried drinking water from the well in our neighbor Uncle Aghasalim’s garden, since our own well water was unsuitable.

We learned to turn the soil and clear the weeds, but they were not so easy to clear. One day, Father explained, “You must work deeper. Until you remove the roots, the job isn’t finished.”

Moral: Deal with the roots of a problem and a bad habit. Clearing away only what shows above the surface does not stop it from returning.

Bakhtiyar Sirajov