Our Children

I have Mary on my mind again today. I’ve been rereading passages from Jesus the Christ by Talmadge and was particularly captivated by his comments about Mary’s understanding of her son and his divine mission. Remember when she and Joseph were on the way home from Jerusalem and discovered that Jesus was not among them? They returned to the temple and found him talking with the learned rabbis and told him that they had been worried about him. Seemingly surprised, he answered, “How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?”

Mary was his mother; about that the scriptures are clear. At this juncture, however, it’s almost as if she has forgotten her son’s divine paternity. Joseph was not his father, and his father had not been looking for him for he was at that moment in his father’s house. Nevertheless, recognizing Joseph’s and his mother’s guardianship of him, Jesus left with them for Nazareth.

According to Talmadge, Mary appears to have never really understood her son and states, “He was hers, and yet in a very real sense not wholly hers.” I’ve read that sentence over and over again with this thought: That’s the same with all children. They’re ours but not really wholly ours. They all have their spark of divinity, and we as mothers are responsible for giving them birth and guiding and loving them.

I think all mothers have experienced moments when we’ve asked ourselves questions such as, “Where did this child come from?” “Where did she or he get this particular talent or propensity?” "Why can't I make him do what I want him to (we know best, right?)" I think these moments become increasingly frequent as our children advance into the teen years. By the time they’re young adults, sometimes they seem like strangers to us. Where did the swaddled infant go? How did this child get to be so savvy, knowledgeable, opinionated, aloof, or whatever the adjective might be?

It sort of reminds me of the passage from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Children.” I’m not comparing us to Mary. I’m saying that our children are not truly ours. They belong to God. They have their own hearts and minds, and they’re on loan to us for a while.

On Children
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 our 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.