Kahlil Gibran, author of “The Prophet”, said parents are the bow upon which
the arrow (our children) flies from. We
prepare them and send them forth, but we can’t “be” them. They are with us but a little while, and then
leave us, to follow their own “flight path”.
Our children are our greatest love.
It's different from any other type of love that we humans are given in
this life. It's the ultimate selfless
love, an unending and unconditional love, a love that dedicates our entire
lives to the raising and welfare of another human being. Along with those responsibilities come
worries, and trials, and challenges.
Loving them is the easy part... garnering the wisdom to make the right
decisions as they grow is the hard part.
We aren't given any instruction book or manual, just told to do our
best, love them all that we can, and see to their needs. The rest is just winging it, really. It’s those times that we look back to what our
parents and grandparents did for us, and use that wisdom to form our own
methods of child rearing.
When they are young, we dream of the day they will be grown, and wonder
what they will become. But all too soon,
in the blink of an eye seemingly, they are grown and off on their own life’s
adventures. This past month, both my
“boys” had a birthday. One turned 32,
the other (the youngest of my three) turned 25.
I only have to pause for a minute to remember them when they were
little, romping around with their sister in tow, creating mischief of all
sorts, exploring their world with the new eyes that only a child has. Life may have been rough from my perspective,
worrying about bills and such, but from their eyes, it was a world of
wonder. Magic happened at every
corner. Exploration was just outside the
door in the back yard, and adventure accompanied even the smallest of
things.
In those days, the kitchen windowsills over the sink were the special spot
that held the treasures they brought me from their adventures. It might be a rock from the driveway that
sparkled when you held it in the sun, or a dandelion flower that had sprouted
in the yard and they thought was so pretty with its yellow petals bobbing over
the grass. It might be a pine cone that
was smaller than the rest, or the hood of an acorn that looked like a little
cup. Whatever it was, it fascinated them
in some special way, and they had given it to me as a treasure to be
saved. So onto the windowsill it went,
along with the hodge-podge of other treasures of past days of exploration and
adventure. They trusted me to save the
special things... and I did, for a time... then it was time to clear a few
things off the sill so that there’d be room for more treasures.
I’ve often said that one of a parent’s most important jobs is to
remember. Remember the little things,
the special moments, the achievements, and yes even the sorrows, that went into
the growing up years of each child. Sure,
they will remember some of them, but not as many as the parent does and not
from the same perspective as the parent does. It’s our job to remember those
precious times, not just for ourselves, but as “treasures” to pass back to our
children so that they can see themselves through our eyes... with the
understanding and wisdom of an adult, with the delight of a parent, and as a
gift from child to parent of the wonder of Life itself.
We cherish them, and the memories they help us make. It’s one of Life’s
validations that the greatest things, the most precious things, are not “things”
at all.... but are family, memories, and the love that holds it all
together.
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