Then she looked at my oldest and asked if she wanted to have kids, and proceeded to say that hers did not, not for a long time anyway, and certainly not many.
Weird? Sad? Both?
Naturally, I’ve been thinking about that. “We saw what you went through” is what she told me they said. They observed that motherhood, for their mother, was (I’m guessing now) hard? Challenging? A lot of work?
I don’t know her life, so it’s hard to say what, specifically, gave her children a disdain for the only job on the planet that begins with a miracle—the supernatural creation of a new person from two people—allows you to love, nurture, teach, shape and invest in that person—a part of you—for a few short years, and then watch your efforts live on through the generations, literally shaping the world ahead of you.
What kind of effort is so difficult to make that opportunity not worth it?
Isn’t any worthwhile endeavor difficult? And of all the worthwhile endeavors, isn’t the bearing and raising of children near the top since it is the perpetual life-blood of civilization, on which the entirety of our future hangs?
Why aren’t our children growing up excited about a job so crucial to our world’s well-being? And why aren’t we greatly concerned that they’re not?
These are the questions that should cause us to stop, listen and think about the legacy we are leaving.
If our children grow up willing to stress, labor and persevere for the pursuit of wealth but turn a nose up at investing in the lives of their flesh and blood—that which has the most impact now and eternally—we have done something terribly wrong.
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