Thursday, September 3, 2015

Gifts of a Parent

                When I answered my phone this morning I couldn’t have enjoyed my grandparent’s wheezy rendition of “Happy Birthday” any more than I did. I was told grandpa was singing in his best falsetto in the background. On a whim I decided that I needed to go visit for a few minutes after that call, so Megan and I drove right over. Something ridiculous and wonderful happened to us yesterday, and I thought they should know about it. The details of what happened are for me to know and for you to find out if ever you get the chance.

                Grandma nearly collapsed when she found out what the surprise was, made more wonderful because it was only made possible by my dad. In trying to figure out why on earth Dad did what he did, Megan noted that there was really no good way to repay the man for what he did and continues to do for us. Grandma then said what made no sense at first and would have never crossed my mind, “Burkley repaid him when he was born!” In words so perfect I couldn’t do them justice, Grandma expressed that parents are forever repaid, prepaid, for their efforts by just having children. The gift and blessing of children is forever and always superior to anything parents could provide in return.

                She attested with some emotion that the position of parenthood was a sacred, sacred thing, and even the struggles and miserable times of raising children were supreme blessings in the lives of the parents. She told us the birth of a child automatically and completely shifts the focus of the parents’ lives. Having children changes our perspective on the continuity of life. Up until that point we are the end of everything we do. After that first child we aren’t our own first priority anymore, and we don’t want to be. So, when I was blown away yesterday by the honest generosity and love of my dad, it wasn’t that much of a big deal to him; I had already been the kind of gift in his life he couldn’t repay me for. Suddenly the tables were turned, and I couldn’t believe I could be something like that in my Dad’s eyes. Here I thought we were indebted to him, not the other way around.

                Then I remembered the conversation he and I had on my wedding day. We were walking around the tables at the reception. The doors were going to open in twenty minutes. As we talked, all I could think about was how beautiful the place was, decorated with things that were not mine and were offered to us free. The food that was laid out was either bought by Mom and Dad or donated to the cause. Displays highlighting my life and Megan’s life were put together without me having to do anything. A giant quilt, handmade by Grandma, hung in the corner. I had almost nothing to do with the magic of the day other than enjoying it, but Dad had almost everything to do with it. I turned to him and told him how thankful I was that he had made the day so great; his response was, “You have done more for my life than I could have ever done for yours.”  After today, his answer makes much more sense.


                All of this has opened a new level of love in parenting to me I can’t yet understand. As Grandma also said, the kind of relationship she was talking about can only come by experience. I knew Grandma loved more deeply than most, but what I saw and heard today was something more reverent, something that took her whole heart to say. Of all the things I could get from Grandma on my birthday, nothing could have been more important or precious than what she taught me about love.

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