The Village
You know what they say...it takes a village to raise a child. Sometimes I wonder if it will take more like a town or even a city – including suburbs – to raise my little bundles of energy. It certainly would be a daunting task for a hamlet...and I can’t even imagine the fiasco that would ensue if I was going this journey of motherhood alone.
But I’m not.
And the last two days have impressed that upon me in a very powerful way. It is as if God Himself turned on the spotlight of heaven and suddenly lit up the crowd of supporters waiting in the wings, alerting us to the many surrounding us and our children and providing our “back up” while we fumble our way through parenthood.
A few days ago when I was packing, I found the guest book from my wedding and was truly blessed to read the words of encouragement written there. As my finger ran down the list of guest names I was humbled by the fact that so many people cared enough to be part of that important day in my life. When making that guest list seven and a half years ago, I was more than happy to invite a long list of “friends of my parents.” I distinctly remember (in what I now believe to be an uncharacteristically “mature” viewpoint) that while many of those people were considered more “my parents’ friends” than my own, I somehow knew that each of them played a part in shaping me into the woman I had become.
Now I think of all our friends and family and am so thankful for the part they play in raising and shaping my kids. I treasure these people and my kids adore them. Without them, my kids would be subject to my bumbling idiosyncrasies exclusively...rendering them powerless against becoming just a little bit too much like me. What a scary thought.
And as we temporarily move across an ocean, I can’t help but worry about the effect it will have on my kids, as they are transplanted outside of the village. Don’t get me wrong; I am fully aware that there are not necessarily geographical limitations on these things...these villages are often “global” in nature. Especially in this age of internet, webcams, cell phones and well...airplanes. But it’s just not the same. I guess that is just one more anxiety to leave in the very capable hands of our Maker.
I also know that our village limits will expand – so to speak – as we forge new friendships that step in “in absentia.” So as for that guest list when it (heaven forbid) is time for my daughter’s big day...I pray she will recognize the unbelievable number of people it took to raise her...and be thankful her parents never had to go it alone.
But I’m not.
And the last two days have impressed that upon me in a very powerful way. It is as if God Himself turned on the spotlight of heaven and suddenly lit up the crowd of supporters waiting in the wings, alerting us to the many surrounding us and our children and providing our “back up” while we fumble our way through parenthood.
A few days ago when I was packing, I found the guest book from my wedding and was truly blessed to read the words of encouragement written there. As my finger ran down the list of guest names I was humbled by the fact that so many people cared enough to be part of that important day in my life. When making that guest list seven and a half years ago, I was more than happy to invite a long list of “friends of my parents.” I distinctly remember (in what I now believe to be an uncharacteristically “mature” viewpoint) that while many of those people were considered more “my parents’ friends” than my own, I somehow knew that each of them played a part in shaping me into the woman I had become.
Now I think of all our friends and family and am so thankful for the part they play in raising and shaping my kids. I treasure these people and my kids adore them. Without them, my kids would be subject to my bumbling idiosyncrasies exclusively...rendering them powerless against becoming just a little bit too much like me. What a scary thought.
And as we temporarily move across an ocean, I can’t help but worry about the effect it will have on my kids, as they are transplanted outside of the village. Don’t get me wrong; I am fully aware that there are not necessarily geographical limitations on these things...these villages are often “global” in nature. Especially in this age of internet, webcams, cell phones and well...airplanes. But it’s just not the same. I guess that is just one more anxiety to leave in the very capable hands of our Maker.
I also know that our village limits will expand – so to speak – as we forge new friendships that step in “in absentia.” So as for that guest list when it (heaven forbid) is time for my daughter’s big day...I pray she will recognize the unbelievable number of people it took to raise her...and be thankful her parents never had to go it alone.
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