It has been a rough last week. Horrible cold and fever took over both of my girls over the course of it. We are still trying to figure out Emily’s stomach woes. Blood test for Celiac and trying gluten-free this week on top of the already acknowledged lactose intolerance. Today we did everything right and she went to bed with either a rash or hives on her middle. It’s been frustrating. But in all the household is feeling much better and somehow, someway I have escaped it, perhaps there is such a thing as miracles.
Today was a good day. Tonight I saw this girl above skipping across the yard. When she skips, it makes my heart sing. It’s just a sign of pure happiness, and her happiness is my happiness. When things are tough, when motherhood seems overwhelming and I don’t seem to be getting my way, I am reminded of this portion of Kahlil Gibran’s “The Prophet”, one of my favorite parts of my favorite spiritual guidebook, that any mother at any stage may appreciate:
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
for even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves the bow that is stable”.