Because they are here
Life zips by us.
One day rolls into the next, into the next, into the next.
Add children to the equation and it seems like the pace of the days increases exponentially.
Babies require constant care; they can do nothing for themselves.
Toddlers require constant attention; they believe they can do everything for themselves.
And then, school time comes.
Off they go. Yes, we adults feel some sadness for the passage of time. They’ve grown up. They need us less.
But, parents, there is also a little relief, right?
They are learning, now, and have begun their journey to becoming fully functioning *gasp* adults.
There will be tough times for them (and you) in elementary, middle and high school: undone homework, social media discourse, and lost and rekindled friendships. And in the lightning-fast days, the ones spent dealing with teenage drama seem endless. Parents who’ve dealt with it already know what we mean.
Eventually, though, our children find themselves in 12th grade, solidifying decisions about what they will do for the next five decades of their lives.
The time we have with them before they head off to college, trade school, the military or into the work force is gone, and we’re left wondering just how it disappeared so quickly.
Those rough times are a memory, something we laugh at in retrospect, or at the very least, remember with less frustration than we felt going through them.
We let out a sigh, let them go, let them fly into their own lives.
Most won’t fully realize how lucky they are to be on this Earth, to have the world before them with choices to make and opportunities to seize … those are wistful feelings that come with adulthood’s years lived and life experience.
From their birth and throughout their lives, we as parents should celebrate their skinned knees, their undone homework, their lost earbuds and penchant for selfies.
We should nurture their optimism and curiousness about the world.
We should celebrate their successes and their failures.
Why?
Because they are here.
The elementary school shooting in Texas is another grim reminder of how quickly things can change. Nineteen children are gone. They have lost the opportunity to go through life’s normal rites of passage.
No parent who lost a child in that tragedy or any of the many others would trade the comparably minor frustrations of raising a child for their life. They would, we imagine, give just about anything to embrace both their children and those day-to-day parenting struggles.
In the coming days, weeks and months, politicians will again debate how to prevent a similar tragedy. That is their role, and we truly hope there is a shift toward a meaningful solution this time.
Our role as parents is different, and perhaps it, too, should shift.
Instead of allowing the days to zip by, one flowing into another as we race to raise our children, we should savor the moments – ALL of them – that we have.
Hug them more. Let them know they are loved and cherished, and show them compassion during their most difficult struggles.
Because they are here.
And that is something worthy of daily celebration.