Kids & Parenting

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I crawled under the sheets, between my five and three year old daughters and they snuggled in my arms at my sides. “'The Dragonfly and the Grasshopper,' chapter two,” I began. Their wide eyes stared up at me in excitement as I envisioned the little creatures who lived on the embankment of the pond and the story unfolded into yet another unwritten tale to teach them lessons in morality.

“... and the grasshopper hurried back home. We’ll find out if the dragonfly was accepted tomorrow night, in chapter three.”

“Awe. Come on, Mom. Please! Just a little more.”

“Nope. Go to sleep now. Not a word from this room or we’ll skip tomorrow night.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they sighed. Prayers, kisses and warm hugs left their little minds wondering until the next night.

One year later, my son was born and the tradition continued. He and I even wrote ‘The Chocolate School’ together and his classmates were the first to hear ‘Pammy the Panda’ when I volunteered for Teachers’ Day Out.

Fifteen years after 'The Dragonfly and the Grasshopper,' (that seemed a week later) I’d seen a lot of things change besides the fact that they were no longer babies. I changed. Life changed. If I’d known when they were babies what was to happen, I’d have cherished every moment just a little bit more, if it were even possible to do that. When I found myself in the midst of the rubble, my first instinct was to question whether or not I’d been as good a mother as I should have been. “If I had,” I reasoned, “then I’d still have them with me. They’d WANT to be with me.”

I struggled with that emotion in the private closets of my own mind for months. Finally, I told my oldest daughter how I felt. I could see the confusion in her face, “What do I say to my mother? She’s so distraught and I don’t know how to comfort her.” She sat silently and listened while the emotions poured out of my mouth, much like the river of tears that poured from my eyes.

“What did I do, mijita? Was I a good Mom?”

“You were the best! You couldn’t have been any better, Mom. It wasn’t anything that you did wrong. I know you’re hurting, but you have to quit believing that!”

“Really? What was so good about growing up with me as your Mom? You didn’t have the best clothes or the greatest house. I had to work all the time and didn’t spend much time with you. I made a lot of mistakes. What was so good?”

“It wasn’t about ‘stuff!’ It was about who you were and the things you taught us. Those things last forever.”

“Like what? What is your favorite childhood memory?” I begged her to tell me something, anything that would prove my feelings were not justified.

“The times when you crawled in bed with us and told us stories. I didn’t just admire you, Mom, because you could tell stories off the top of your head; I treasured every moment, every word. I was sure, and I’m still sure, that I had the best mother in the whole world.”

If I could send out a message to mothers, and those mothers actually took it to heart and acted on it, it would possibly change the world. Put God first in all that you do. And cherish every moment that you have with your children. Not only do they grow up fast, but you never know what could happen between the time you give birth and the day you have to let them go. Letting go too soon is painful. How much more painful is letting go too soon if you have regrets?
© Joyce Pool

Proverbs 22:6 Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

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