Speaking Of Shrinking Worlds

In yesterday's post, I wrote "Her world is so large and unusual. But I get to be the one who shrinks it when needed, making it common and comfortable." Which somehow led me to these scrambled thoughts.

I cut up vibrant, vitamin-rich veggies and juicy, jewel-toned fruits for my daughters to snack on. To fill up their hunger and feed their growing bodies, I provide healthy bits of food - lovingly prepared - in hopes that they will grow strong and vibrant and healthy themselves.

I read stories without ceasing - happily so. Modulating my voice to convey emotions and images that seep into the minds of my sweet girls, I fill them up with these moments. I wish with all the might in my soul that they will come to love reading and revel in the mystery of pages yet unturned. That they will delight in discovering knowledge.

My husband and I are a team that steers them onto safe, well-lit paths lined with protection and guidance, and - as much as it is possible for parents to do so - we decide what is best for them. Putting in hours of thought and agonizing over the details of every disciplinary choice, we pray that we are raising them right. We do our very best to make sure they are being led in the ways of charity and kindness; wondering if they follow for understanding reasons, or simply to avoid punishment.

We speak softly of God's love, elaborating when questions are asked. We weave a foundation of faith, hoping that it will raise them to lofty heights in a relationship with the One who loves them more fully than even we as parents are capable of doing. Showing them with our lives and relationships how to give God's love back to everyone we encounter, we try to be more faithful followers. And when our children recognize our weaknesses - for surely they will - we hope they're learning to understand that faith is a journey.

But I also worry. I second-guess. I blame myself for every misstep they make. I blame myself for not knowing how to do everything right.

I wonder: does any of this translate into a guarantee of a happy, confident, faithful life for them? How can all of the love pouring out of my hands and mouth and heart not be enough to know - really know - that they won't hate me when they're older? That they won't merge into the world as completely different people from the children we thought we were raising.

I wonder.

I worry.

Yet, I continue on my path - happily so. What else is there to do, after all, but to raise my children with joy?