Big Sister

Childhood's last gasp. This sweet girl is the older sister of the little boy in my last post. I love her unselfconsciously cheerful expression. When I look at her, I am reminded of my own daughter just before she started middle school and everything about her changed so fast it took my breath away. These years when a mother can keep her child close are so special. Soon hanging out with her schoolmates will replace emulating Mom. We all have to let go and allow them to explore the world and discover themselves but the years when they stay close are magic.

This puts me in mind of a poem by Lebanese American poet and artist Kahlil Gibran that I kept on my refrigerator door for years while my children were young. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
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 also the bow that is stable.

Khalil Gibran