A friend sent this to me
and I share with you.
The author is unknown (if I searched on the internet
I’d probably find someone who claims it) but it could be my
life in a way. It
could be your life now and in the future - your
children’s.
Simply put we all spend time with issues that concern
our children, and only by being diligent can we hope to make
their future lives better. No matter what we do in life our
family shall always cause
WORRY!
Is there a magic cutoff period when
offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful
moment when parents can become detached spectators in the
lives of their children and shrug, 'It's their life,' and feel
nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood
in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few
stitches in my daughter's head. I asked, ‘When do you
stop worrying?'
The nurse said, 'When they get out of the accident
stage.' My dad
just smiled faintly and said
nothing.
When I was in my thirties, I sat on
a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children
talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a
career making license plates. As if to read my mind,
a teacher said, 'Don't worry, they all go through this stage
and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.' My dad just smiled
faintly and said nothing.
When I was in my forties, I spent a
lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home,
the front door to open.
A friend said, 'They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry, in a few
years, you can stop worrying. They'll be
adults.' My dad
just smiled faintly and said
nothing.
By the time I was 50, I was sick and
tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my
children, but there was a new wrinkle. There WAS nothing I
could do about it.
My dad just smiled faintly and said nothing. I continued to anguish
over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and
absorbed in their
disappointments.
My friends said that when my kids
got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe
that, but I was haunted by my dad's warm smile and his
occasional, 'You look pale. Are you all right?
Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed
about something?'
Can it be that parents are sentenced
to a lifetime of worry?
Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to
blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the
unknown? Is
concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the
highest form of life?
One of my children became quite
irritable recently, saying to me, 'Where were you? I've been calling for
3 days, and no one answered. I was worried.' I smiled a warm
smile. The torch
has been passed.