GEMS and FRACTURES

Sometimes parenting feels like a thousand micro-fractures of the heart.

They don’t tell you this when you first fall in love, when you first hold your little one and wonder at how this tiny human has instantly captured every single ounce of your affection. In beholding that precious face you have little idea of the pain you will endure - not because of your child, but alongside them. 

You know little of the times you will watch them struggle, watch them hurt, watch them face challenges you long to remove. You know little of how their disappointment will touch your soul, of how you will hold your breath as you watch them risk greatly and how your heart and mind will slow beneath time when you see their best efforts come up short.

They don’t tell you this when you first fall in love, but the truth is it wouldn’t matter if they did. It’s all worth it in the end.

Sometimes parenting feels like unearthing a thousand hidden gems.

Small ones, sparkly and precious, hidden beneath the earth of day-to-day life. Separate from the social media worthy events, these are the momentary gifts that make a parent’s heart come alive. That smile, that little success, that time they tried and tried and saw their efforts pay off.

I find myself digging for gems more and more these days, looking and watching for hints of light in the dirt, willing my eyes to see moments where sunshine catches the edge of precious treasure. And at the same time I find myself recognizing the small wounds of the heart, observing them, allowing them, feeling them. 

I find myself giving my soul space for both the beauty and the cost of encouraging another to embrace life fully alive.

We all long to embody resilience, to be bold and dare greatly, to move through life unafraid. And we all long to impart this to our children, to breathe it over those we love, to be both the source and the space for another’s brave life.

But this does not come without a cost. Nor does it come without a reward. 

Driven to push their minds and their bodies, my young boys would often climb high on the playground. My mind screamed constant assessments of risk and and my heart longed to protect them from the pain of any fall, but I let them climb anyway. 

Driven to push their minds and their bodies, my now teenage boys are reaching deeply into what life has to offer. They are building relationships, stepping into athletic competition, challenging themselves to embrace a brave and full future.  My mind screams constant assessments of risk and my heart longs to protect them from the pain of any fall, but I am choosing to let them live anyway.

This involves great heartache and great joy.

I have and will watch them get hurt. I have and will watch them fail. I have and will watch their hearts ache. But I also have and will watch them rise strong. I have and will watch them succeed. I have and will watch their hearts grow and swell with love, compassion and life.

I’m beginning to see that understanding the cost of life does not diminish it of hope, but rather embodies it with value. In allowing my heart to feel the pain of disappointment and grief alongside my children I find myself embracing the wonder of their joy and success. There is a cost to be had here, but also a great reward - will I be willing to embrace both?

And I’m asking the same question about my own life - will I be willing to embrace both? 

Will I stop trying to pretend that painful things don’t matter so I can recognize just how deeply something wonderful does? Will I allow mourning, no matter how big or how small, so I can also experience celebration? Will I be brave enough to both admit and embrace both the cost and the reward?

I hope so. I’m trying. I’m feeling the pain and digging for the gems, all at the same time.

And I’m hoping you’ll join me.