The Real Gift of Parenting
Here’s a comment about the holiday season that we
have heard from many parents – and we’ve sometimes
felt much the same way ourselves:
Last year, the holidays were crazy! I seemed to
spend most of my time standing in line or carrying
bags. We spent a small fortune on assorted
complicated gizmos -- which got opened and then
ignored as my daughter and son spent most of the
day playing with $2.99 worth of stickers. We got
stressed out in order to relax and suffered in
order to have fun. My husband and I stared at each
other across the flotsam and jetsam of wrapping
paper and various pieces of who-knows-what, and
you could see the look in each of our eyes: Say
what?!
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.
*******
(Rick Hanson, Ph.D. is a
clinical psychologist, Jan Hanson, M.S., L.Ac., is
an acupuncturist/nutritionist, and they are
raising a daughter and son, ages 15 and 18. With
Ricki Pollycove, M.D., they are the first and
second authors of Mother Nurture: A Mother’s Guide
to Health in Body, Mind, and Intimate
Relationships, published by Penguin. You can see
their website at www.nurturemom.com or email them
with questions or comments at info@nurturemom.com;
unfortunately, a personal reply may not always be
possible.)
|