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Wednesday::Mar 27, 2024

These Little Ones

I

t's pretty crazy just how random and unpredictable so much of what goes on in a child's life is. Parents have a great deal of influence on their children, it's certainly true -- but I think most of what they cultivate is a certain kind of atmosphere, which can encourage particular experiences, but never really lock down what their character will be, nor their effects. I have all sorts of seminal experiences, books, films, actions and conflicts remembered, injuries -- very few of which were directly selected for by my parents. Those that were almost certainly did not have their future importance guessed at.

Raising children well is hard, because they're raised partly by themselves, and partly by the world. I imagine that parenthood is just slowly losing your grip on someone, and hoping that they can stand on their own two feet once you finally let go. I want to be a good father, very, very badly. I want to be good at it, like a skill. I'd like to be able to pass on, consciously, some dearly held values. I'd like to hold myself to a higher standard so that my children will have someone to look up to. And it's wild to think that even if you do well, so much is left to the essence and will of the child, the wiles of the world, and damn random chance. As usual, nothing more than our best can be asked of us, but it's awfully hard to know that we've actually done our best. Most of the time, we know we haven't, and we just have to live with that.

Lord, grant me strength, and courage, and love. Please, draw my child to you.