Family life was wonderful. The streets were bleak. The

In the words of Robert Cormier: “Family life was wonderful. The streets were bleak. The playgrounds were bleak. But home was always warm. My mother and father had a great relationship. I always felt ‘safe’ there.” These words shine like a lantern in the darkness, proclaiming that though the world outside may be cold and unforgiving, the true sanctuary of the human spirit is found in the bonds of love within one’s own household. For though walls are made of stone and timber, it is affection, respect, and harmony that make a house into a home.

The ancients knew well that the world beyond the door is often harsh. The streets may bring danger, the playgrounds may echo with cruelty or neglect, yet when the hearth is tended and the family is united, the soul finds strength to endure. Cormier’s words remind us that the warmth of a mother and father’s love can transform even the bleakest environment into a fortress of comfort and safety. To feel safe is not the gift of circumstance, but of relationship—of knowing that within the home, one is valued, cherished, and protected.

Consider the story of the Jewish families during the Babylonian exile. Stripped of their homeland, surrounded by foreign powers and strange customs, they nevertheless preserved their faith and their identity through the sanctity of their homes. Fathers and mothers gathered their children, teaching them stories, songs, and prayers that carried warmth into hearts though the streets outside were filled with sorrow. In their family life, they found resilience; in their togetherness, they found safety. History remembers them not as broken exiles, but as a people sustained by the sanctuary of the household.

Cormier’s words also testify to the power of unity between mother and father. A great relationship between parents is like the root system of a mighty tree—hidden from sight, yet providing nourishment and stability to everything above. When children see harmony, they learn trust. When they see respect, they learn dignity. When they feel warmth, they are shielded from the bleakness of the world outside. The legacy of parents is not only in the rules they speak but in the love they live.

Yet we must not mistake this truth for nostalgia alone. Even in our present age, the streets may be filled with violence, poverty, and despair. The playgrounds may echo with exclusion or cruelty. But the answer has not changed: the home must be the refuge, the anchor, the place where children know beyond all doubt that they are safe. If the world outside grows darker, the light within must burn brighter.

The lesson is clear: tend to your family life as though it were the most sacred temple. Do not let bitterness, division, or neglect invade it, for the outside world brings enough hardship already. Build warmth through kindness, build trust through unity, and build safety through unwavering love. Let every child know that though the streets may be bleak, their home will never betray them.

Practical actions are within reach: spend time together as a family, share meals as sacred gatherings, guard your speech so that words within the home bring healing and not harm. If you are a parent, cultivate respect between yourselves, for your children will drink deeply of that example. If you are a child grown, honor your parents by building a home that echoes the warmth you once knew. In every gesture of love, you make the world less bleak, not only for yourself but for those who depend on you.

Thus, Cormier’s words rise as both memory and mandate: though the world outside may be harsh, we are not powerless. The true fortress of the human spirit is the home, where love transforms walls into shelter, and where the warmth of family life ensures that even in a bleak world, the soul can always feel safe.