Brad with Tyler, the
beautiful grandson I can't wait to meet!
beautiful grandson I can't wait to meet!It's been a busy month. The to-do list has been varied and often fun, but never finished. Somehow I've managed to get from one deadline to the next with some remnant of sanity (I think)!
Maybe that's why I enjoyed the parent-teacher conferences our school scheduled last week. It seemed like a luxury to actually have time to sit across from parents for one-on-one conversation about their children. We talked about grades and expectations, but almost always there was more. Parents talked about dreams.
There was the single mom who can't afford the music and art lessons her creative daughter longs to have. The mother of a vivacious daredevil who expects to see her on Xtreme sports TV someday. The parent of the child with sickle cell anemia. Some are amusing, like the rather large lady who takes great pride in the fact that her rotund son has sold the most cookie dough. Others are heartbreaking, like the tentative single mom who works nights and fears that her beautiful daughter is growing up too fast and falling prey to the wrong influences.
My heart instantly recognizes these parents and their dreams. The language of dreams is one we parents speak fluently. We're somewhat beyond youthful dreams ourselves --in my case probably closer to the "bucket" list! It is the season when our personal goals take a back seat while we try to provide the children and youth in our lives with the encouragement, resources, and foundations to help their dreams come true.
Sometimes we can get carried away, as in "cheerleader mom" or "stage dad." It's sad when otherwise level-headed, kind-hearted people get so caught up in living out their dreams through their children that they leave a trail of hurt in their wake - the collateral damage of unbridled ego - sometimes without even realizing it.
In the past couple of weeks it has been my delight to read - in bits and snatches - a sweet and wise little book called The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. When faced with terminal cancer, the author found time to dictate his story and dedicate it "with thanks to his parents who allowed him to dream, and with hopes for the dreams his children will have." It was his attempt to pass on to his children who he was and what was important to him. Although, sadly, the subject of faith is almost totally unaddressed, the book has a lot of food for thought - like the following:
"Having seen so many students go through my classrooms, I've come to know that a lot of parents don't realize the power of their words. Depending on a child's age and sense of self, an offhand comment from Mom or Dad can feel like a shove from a bulldozer.... I would just urge my kids to find their way with enthusiasm and passion."
Brayden would interrupt me right here to ask, "So, Mom, why are you making me take band when I'd rather play football?" Thankfully, it doesn't have to be an either/or choice, and I keep thinking that someday he'll be glad I "encouraged" him to add this skill to his life. Just call me a stage mom!
Basically though, I think Randy Pauch had it right - at least as far as he went. It's good to know our children are in the care and keeping of a Heavenly Father, the Giver and Fulfiller of our highest dreams.
My heart instantly recognizes these parents and their dreams. The language of dreams is one we parents speak fluently. We're somewhat beyond youthful dreams ourselves --in my case probably closer to the "bucket" list! It is the season when our personal goals take a back seat while we try to provide the children and youth in our lives with the encouragement, resources, and foundations to help their dreams come true.
Sometimes we can get carried away, as in "cheerleader mom" or "stage dad." It's sad when otherwise level-headed, kind-hearted people get so caught up in living out their dreams through their children that they leave a trail of hurt in their wake - the collateral damage of unbridled ego - sometimes without even realizing it.
In the past couple of weeks it has been my delight to read - in bits and snatches - a sweet and wise little book called The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. When faced with terminal cancer, the author found time to dictate his story and dedicate it "with thanks to his parents who allowed him to dream, and with hopes for the dreams his children will have." It was his attempt to pass on to his children who he was and what was important to him. Although, sadly, the subject of faith is almost totally unaddressed, the book has a lot of food for thought - like the following:
"Having seen so many students go through my classrooms, I've come to know that a lot of parents don't realize the power of their words. Depending on a child's age and sense of self, an offhand comment from Mom or Dad can feel like a shove from a bulldozer.... I would just urge my kids to find their way with enthusiasm and passion."
Brayden would interrupt me right here to ask, "So, Mom, why are you making me take band when I'd rather play football?" Thankfully, it doesn't have to be an either/or choice, and I keep thinking that someday he'll be glad I "encouraged" him to add this skill to his life. Just call me a stage mom!
Basically though, I think Randy Pauch had it right - at least as far as he went. It's good to know our children are in the care and keeping of a Heavenly Father, the Giver and Fulfiller of our highest dreams.
