Last night as one of the great loves of my life was leaving after a sweet little visit, she noticed that one of my baby Christmas trees which adorns the entry way, was sagging. Having a black thumb myself- (it's genetic, my dad used to hum The Funeral March any time my mother dared to bring a new plant into the house) I was grateful for the helpful advice to stop drowning it with too much water.
Don't we do that sometimes, though? Maybe coming from a life where there never seemed to be enough of anything to go around, now that I can, I drown things in overabundance. God forbid I let something go or die, before I find a way to squeeze the life right out of it? Okay, so I'm being a little dramatic.
Children are the most incredible gifts. From the baby smiles when they learn to recognize your face (validation that you are loved and appreciated) to statements made from their adult consciousnesses, (which affirm that maybe, in spite of the mistakes and horrors that you dwell on, because you inflicted them) that they have somehow turned out to be amazing human beings.
Anyone who knows me knows that I can be a little hard on myself. Fortunately I have also learned to do it in a way that does not disregard the wonders that really do dwell in me. My belief that to be a good parent you need to allow your children to become their own individual wonders, has been both the difficulties and the successes of my endeavors. One of my proudest moments as a mother (who raised the two older ones pretty much single-handedly) was when my older son told me that what he admired about me was that I never inflicted my own opinions on them, but allowed them to believe what they wanted to. This took great courage for me (I don't mind telling you) because it would have been easier to just follow rules and traditions and not have to think or try so hard.
In some of my closest relationships I have seen people that act out of obligation, blindly disciplining because that was what they were told to do. I have suffered on the front line of blind enthusiasm for a legacy of anger that was handed down from one generation to the next. I watched my children suffer and cringe because of this. I saw myself check out, causing my children to starve for affection because I was no longer there. A 'chip off the old block' is a heavy, jagged stone that can maim the spirit and the joy of a blossoming child.
Along the way I chiseled away at the fear that paralyzed my hunger for something better. It wasn't easy, but it resulted in something- plainly, beautiful. My great fear and regret in the most recent years was how my beautiful children were hurt, maybe even damaged by their step-father's rage. My focus on the negative worries blocked me from seeing what might have been good. What a waste of time because there is SO much good. My daughter is one of the most caring, empathetic and generous people I have ever known. And then there's Frank- the boy who didn't want to live, who is now a 4.0 Berkeley student, heading for the Peace Corps, who is going to write Christmas letters as his gifts to his family.
Last night at dinner Frank was sharing some of his college stories with us. Loving him the way we do, we of course wanted to know the intimate details of his life beyond us, like what he eats, at what time, and with whom. When he was done answering our petty inquiries, he started to tell us about how he would take an apple (hidden safely in his backpack) out of the cafeteria with him, for later. He only ate two meals a day because that is all he can afford, and sometimes he would get hungry in between. I don't know what it was that brought him there, but according to him he had an ethical epiphany where he realized that taking those apples was illegal. You're supposed to pay for a 'to go' box if you want extras. So Frank went and bought a bag of apples and brought them to the cafeteria manager, to make amends.
I'm not sure if the manager laughed at him, but I cried listening to this, because I was never so proud in all of my life, for that apple that fell from this tree. Frank's incredible spirit is what makes him so resilient, so driven and so pure. But I am so proud and honored that my choice to not smother and drown him in dogma and pretense, has lead to this authentic and bountiful force of life.
Truly, the greatest gift of all! Thank you!
No comments:
Post a Comment