06/04/2025
This beloved poem has been on my fridge for years. Next to all their macaroni art, crayon portraits, tantrum response plans, and spelling tests, I also placed this brief yet profound reminder that my kids are their own people.
We get a lot of strange messages as parents -- stranger ones now than ever before. We are invited to feel as though we need to "make something" of our kids, or mold them into someone. Someone successful and utterly perfect. (Or even just someone who will survive in our increasingly frightening world.)
But they already are someone. They have been since the day they were born.
I often say that we are told as parents to be potters. It's impressed upon us that we need to mold our inert clay into the right shape for the world. If our pot is lop-sided then we were bad potters. But there's a more true and (I think) compassionate way to see things.
We are actually gardeners. We don't change one plant into another. But we ensure each plant has its specific needs cared for, and we respect what kind of plant it is. We get to know our plants. We give them enough water. We guard them against pests and the brutal chaos of squirrels. We make sure that when the season is right, they are pruned, and when the season is right again, they get fertilizer. We watch each leaf and petal open on its own time. We let it show us the specific beauty and qualities it has.
Gibran calls us "bows" but the message is the same: we aren't here to forcefully push our children out of their childhood. Our job is to bend. And as we bend, they fly.
Sending love to all the gardeners and bows out there 🌷🌷🏹🏹
