Before my children were born I remember a little secret conversation I had with God that I’ll share with you. I promised to do my best in raising my children, and asked for forgiveness for all the times I would screw things up (there were, and there will be plenty of times in the future). I prayed that my children would also forgive me for all my mishaps as well. Most of all I prayed for the wisdom to understand that my children are not mine to keep—that they don’t belong to me, I’ve just been entrusted to raise them in order to release them to be off on their own journey. I know, it’s not at all an easy or comfortable thing to think about after the many months of pregnancy and delivery trauma that many women experience. However, if we stop and think that our children are not ours to keep would we do things differently as parents?
Now don’t misunderstand me, I am still a fierce mama bear when it comes to my kids. I will forever be their number one fan, as well as their greatest critic. However, what I cannot do is protect them from all the pain and pitfalls in their lives. So instead of trying to force them to live in a bubble, my goal is to try to teach them how to deal with disappointments and distress. To help them have a voice of their own when I’m not there to speak for them. To learn to defend themselves, as well as others, in the face of injustice.
Parenting is truly the hardest role I could ever play. The constant push and pull, pros and cons, of the hundreds of decisions I make each day will shape their view of me, of themselves, and of how they will view and act in the world. Sure, there are wonderfully joyful moments with them, but sometimes the pressure to get it right can be overwhelming. I have to remember that the end goal is for them to be independent, successful adults. I think it’s easy to get lost in the smaller details of life—how to dress them for the weather, what to make for dinner, how to entertain them during lockdowns, how to keep them active, how to keep them social, how to keep them from fighting with each other, and so on and so on…
Every once and I while I have to stop and remind myself that it’s not Groundhog Day—days may appear to blend into one another but they are not the same each day. My daughter’s increasing attitude, emotional outbursts, and visible acne are a hard reminder of my limited time as a ‘life coach’. There will come a time when my house rules and speeches (sometimes at much higher octaves than they should be—a.k.a. my yelling!) will be ineffective. I too will have to change along with their changing bodies. I too will have to adjust to their changing needs and my changing role in their lives. It’s a scary prospect! I can’t help but feel panic inside. The end goal is my beacon. I have to constantly remind myself what my role truly is on this journey. I need to keep them safe from harm but I need to teach them how to keep themselves from harm as well.
They are not mine to keep, just to guide in one of the many right directions—at least to the best of my knowledge. I learn from them as well when I go down the wrong path—parenting is certainly not just a one way street when it comes to learning and teaching. So today my prayer is to help me know the difference between a dead end and a better way to do things—for there are so many paths to go down the right way, as well as the wrong way, during the brief time I have them with me in the proverbial car.
Thoughts At F___ It Forties 