My children won’t be senators or CEOs or even college graduates.
I once dreamt of raising children who loved to read and to think and be creative.
Things didn’t turn out that way.
Sometimes I’m around folks who talk about their kids, being on the honor roll, the football team, being the homecoming queen, or a myriad of other social measurements which make parents proud.
My children haven’t high IQs. In fact my older son’s psychologist says it is amazing he is verbal with the scores he has.
One thing they do have is heart. They care deeply about others. Jeremiah has more friends than any other kid I know. Isaac is so careful about people's feelings, and about following every rule. He won’t jaywalk or ride his bike on the wrong side of the street.
I was watching them today. We were at a regional competition for Special Olympics basketball. Jeremiah was so animated, moving about the court, blocking passes, making shots. He was smiling so broadly. Glad to be with friends. Glad to have Dad there. Isaac was moving quietly around the edges of the crowds, taking pictures, interacting little with others, but I could tell he was having a good time in his own shy way.
While I watched, listening to my iPod and swinging the camera up now and then to catch an interesting shot, I thought about what I might write about them in a blog post, the post I am writing at this moment.
Would I say that I am proud? “Proud” is the term most people would say when experiencing what I am feeling. I don’t think it is the right word.
First, I don’t think I have much to be proud of. Pride comes from being pleased with one’s own accomplishments. Though I believe Jeremiah performs so far out of his expected range partly because as parents we have always demanded he try his hardest at all he does, the majority of what he succeeds at is his own doing, not mine.
Secondly, much of the blessings I receive because of my children are really gifts. Again nothing I have earned or should feel pride for.
So “pride” isn’t the correct word.
I think the best words to describe how I feel about my kids are "love" and "joy". My heart quickens when I watch them, it swells up and I feel a little giddy in an awkward middle aged sort of way.
They bring me joy by being kind, thoughtful, generous. They make me happy by suddenly giving me a hug or asking I come pray over them at bedtime. I love those boys more dearly than I love my own life.
I haven’t really much more to say at this moment (or at least this post, I have already written other posts which I plan on uploading in a day or two).
I may not be bragging, but permit me the digital equivalent of pulling out my wallet and showing you a couple of the greatest kids around.