As you brave the holiday shopping crowds -- trying to decide whether to
give Barbie or Big Bird, Legos or (good grief) an iPod -- or hassle with
returns and sales in January, it's easy to feel a little overwhelmed,
and distracted from the real gifts that are at the heart of parenting.
But happily, when you relax a bit and come back to yourself, the true
gifts of parenting come back to mind, the ones that go deeper than
giving our kids toys and games -- or even a college education.
Over and over again, a hundred times each day, we freely offer a hug, a
smile, a touch, a scolding, a sandwich, a paycheck earned, a story read,
a bed tucked in, a goodnight kiss. So many things, so rapidly readily
given that we hardly notice them -- but they are the fabric of family,
new threads added many times each hour, warm and cozy and nurturing, the
blanket of love in which we wrap our precious vulnerable beloved children.
We offer our lap when our back hurts, we offer our heart when it feels
empty. We let our children enter our thoughts when our minds seem
stuffed with grown-up concerns and plans.
Our offerings are not just material or actions. We also offer
restraint, wise not-doing. We let small things slide. We take into
account a no-nap, hungry day . . . or a tough strike-out in Little
League . . . or a major dump on our daughter by her best friend. We
give the gift of self-control, of not swatting or yelling or
overreacting - even when, yes, it would be a relief.
We let our children have us when we feel all too "had" by others. We
give even when others haven't given enough to us: our coworkers, our
boss, our spouse, our own parents.
We give even when a part of ourselves may not want to; often the most
meaningful giving to our children is offered when our personal
preference would be to do something else.
We find more water when the wellspring seems to have run dry.
Most fundamentally, we give our selves. We open the door wide; we
give our children access to the vulnerable places in our heart; we let
them enter our souls; we let them crawl oh so deeply under our skin.
Our children give us so much to be sure. The act of parenting has its
own rewards. And we need to take care of ourselves so that we can
continue to have something to give to our children.
But parents don't give to get. And in the moment of giving to a child
we often don't get back much at all. Fundamentally, parenting is not an
exchange: we are not playing let's-make-a-deal with our children.
Parenting is an ongoing process of healthy sacrifice: the sacrifice of
attention, time, energy, money, personal agendas, and all the activities
we would prefer to do if we were not parenting.
Of course, we sacrifice not as martyrs but with our eyes open, freely,
with strength, with all the ordinary little heroic acts that make up the
daily life of a parent.
We sacrifice our individual selves into relationship with our children.
We release for a moment the sense of contraction as an isolated self
into the joining of love, a love that may feel for some as if it
partakes of something that's ultimately Divine.
Sacrifice means "sacred act." During this seasonal time, of plunging
into the dark to be renewed for the swelling of the light, a period
that's sacred in many cultures around the world -- it's a lovely,
self-nurturing thing to reflect a bit on what may be for you the sacred
essence of parenting.