I thought I loved before. But then, while in my arms, the first time any one of my children looked at me, my heart catapulted over a hill. And I vowed never to do or say a hurtful thing. Then came the grief of getting lost in the forest of parenting. Not believing the shit that occasionally came out my mouth. And wondering what I was modeling. Then backing into some kind of parental dogma, some of it church stuff, the rest cobbled together, thought stout, even sacred, and then, the sorrow of seeing cracks appear in those tender souls. Then came the realization that I couldn’t protect any one of them from the pain of this world, still, trying mightily, yet failing miserably. And failing was like dying. So many deaths. Such as, dying to my treasured notion of what a child of mine will look like, will turn out to be. And the death of control and death to my concept, albeit benign, of some kind of ownership; learning instead, that fatherhood is a process of divestiture. Oh, but in that process, a series of resurrections. Moments of wholeness. Great big, calm, okayness. Riding our bikes down to the pink bridge. Lunch in a treehouse. And Disneyland, why not? A school play, a soccer game, a canoe trip, a camping washout, a graduation, driver’s license, and watching my kids from a distance, all the astounding elegance, flashes of brilliance, the bounty of being ‘dad’ bursting in my heart, and with it, a magnificent load of hushed worry, all of it, nothing less than love. Something akin to divine love I guess. And through it all, maybe those cracks heal a little, or maybe the scars are important, or maybe in the mystery of that forest, souls are preserved — tender. What am I saying? well hell, you want transformation? You don’t need to go on a pilgrimage, don’t need to chant ancient scriptures, don’t need a monastery or ashram, all you need to do is help raise a child. And if you think that’s some kind of transfiguring practice for fathers, think what it is for mothers!
Parenting is messy, unpredictable and full of bounty, but I doubt that you failed miserably.
Thank you for this Diane!
Perfectly said Steve. I’m sure every parent can relate.
Thanks Lindsay! I know I’m not alone.
here’s to the parenting journey. you have poetically captured the beautiful imperfections, the tiny fissures, gaping errors and, in the midst of it all, the sweet sigh of sweet memories made…
I love how you’ve put this, Adela. Thank you!
Beautiful, grounded and moving
Thank you, Ananda, that feels like a blessing.
Even now, as a senior with our kids having their own kids, I often regret the “shit coming out of my mouth”, the hurtful things I said and did. It’s hard to forgive oneself for screwing up. Thanks for your reflection on fatherhood.
So true, we never stop being parents. And so, regretting certain aspects of the past. The good news with that is that we can let ourselves be shaped by that awareness. Thank you for your candid response, Don!
Ah yes, parenting perfectly described, as to how we stumble in backwards, walk into walls, light the candles, say our prayers and certainly hope for the best.
Five lovely smiles, with the great privilege of calling you Dad.
As well as a lovely nod to your wife.
Happy Father’s Day Stephen, Love indeed wins the day! <3
Thank you dear Tamara! Beautifully said.
What a beautiful and moving reflection, Steve. Thank you!
Thank you my dear friend.
Thank you, Stephen. I loved being a mother and experiencing the every-day surrender that loving those kids demanded. But it was the letting go of a grown son, letting him go to be the husband and father he was raised to be, that was the most wrenching experience of transformation I can think of. How wonderfully we are changed in the loving! 🙂
Ann, your comment makes me happy! Thank you for relating your own experience.
Great big, calm, okayness. #brilliant and #humbling
Thank you Kellie!
Thanks for this honest portrayal of how the unfinished business of our children often triggers the unfinished business of us Dads that we regret later, and sometimes
need to acknowledge afterward.
Thank you Ike. “Unfinished business” is an apt description.
Grateful for forgiving children!