A Prayer and a Promise
Some events force us to acknowledge where we are in life, and how we got here. In the wake of my son Benjy's life-threatening experience I have been doing just that, evaluating and re-evaluating what I’ve been doing with my time on earth.
I suppose everyone feels some emptiness when they think of things not said or done, things that would have made a real difference in their lives, and those of others as well. For a parent, such lost opportunities are especially painful to contemplate. We see with time that while we may have done some things very well, there are myriads of things we wish we could revisit, applying the wisdom of experience and age.
If we only had those choices to make again.
In my past I have been frequently too concerned with my own welfare and the quality of my own life. I once thought I was missing some invaluable life experiences, and in many ways that was true. Poor choices have a way of propagating themselves, and each decision I made too hastily ended up limiting my chances for a better life, materially and spiritually. And while I regretted so many things I had done and the pain those things had caused, I did not properly consider the degree to which my life had been blessed.
Besides life itself, my children have been my greatest blessing. They are the source of countless happy memories, the kind of experiences that are beyond comparison with anything else. They are also the single most important reason I am alive. When I consider the struggles and trials they each endure, I wish I could stand in for them, taking their pain upon myself and freeing them to create and enjoy better lives. I know they must have their burdens to bear as part of their mortal experiences. I have no doubt these things will help them grow. But I still want to take it all away. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a parent. I wouldn’t be human.
I respect and admire each of my children. In a profound way they have become the teachers, and I the humble student. I have learned far more from them than they have from me. I suspect I am not alone in these feelings, but I can only speak for myself. I might apologize for the pain I have caused them, as if by doing so I could expiate my sins. But such apologies would be inadequate, and more importantly, they would be inappropriate.
Promises are all I can sincerely offer my children. I can promise the easy things, like loving them even more. I can offer to help them more, to be there for them. But I would prefer to say simply that I will strive to merit their love, for that is the greatest blessing of all.
That is my prayer, and my promise.
I suppose everyone feels some emptiness when they think of things not said or done, things that would have made a real difference in their lives, and those of others as well. For a parent, such lost opportunities are especially painful to contemplate. We see with time that while we may have done some things very well, there are myriads of things we wish we could revisit, applying the wisdom of experience and age.
If we only had those choices to make again.
In my past I have been frequently too concerned with my own welfare and the quality of my own life. I once thought I was missing some invaluable life experiences, and in many ways that was true. Poor choices have a way of propagating themselves, and each decision I made too hastily ended up limiting my chances for a better life, materially and spiritually. And while I regretted so many things I had done and the pain those things had caused, I did not properly consider the degree to which my life had been blessed.
Besides life itself, my children have been my greatest blessing. They are the source of countless happy memories, the kind of experiences that are beyond comparison with anything else. They are also the single most important reason I am alive. When I consider the struggles and trials they each endure, I wish I could stand in for them, taking their pain upon myself and freeing them to create and enjoy better lives. I know they must have their burdens to bear as part of their mortal experiences. I have no doubt these things will help them grow. But I still want to take it all away. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a parent. I wouldn’t be human.
I respect and admire each of my children. In a profound way they have become the teachers, and I the humble student. I have learned far more from them than they have from me. I suspect I am not alone in these feelings, but I can only speak for myself. I might apologize for the pain I have caused them, as if by doing so I could expiate my sins. But such apologies would be inadequate, and more importantly, they would be inappropriate.
Promises are all I can sincerely offer my children. I can promise the easy things, like loving them even more. I can offer to help them more, to be there for them. But I would prefer to say simply that I will strive to merit their love, for that is the greatest blessing of all.
That is my prayer, and my promise.
Comments
Thank you, and I love you.