After helping my youngest daughter apply sunscreen, I sat in a lawn chair as my children did cartwheels and played ball in the front yard.

That’s when it suddenly occurred to me—maybe I’ve been too hard on myself. Maybe I’ve been too hard on my children. And maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be so hard.

What If?

What if it is more about applying sunscreen to their tender noses and less about applying pressure to succeed?

What if it’s less about extracurricular activities, test results, and flash cards and more about bedtime stories, picnics in the yard, and seeing the world from the top of a swing?

What if it’s less about pursuing perfection and more about embracing flaws?

What if it’s less about the number of goals scored and more about how many affirming words come from our lips?

What if it’s less about playing the notes in tune and more about playing them from the heart?

What if it’s more listening, less lecturing?

What if it’s more observing, less dictating?

What if it’s more rest, less rush?

What if it’s less about taking extravagant trips and more about taking every opportunity to know them as people?

What if it’s less about elaborate gifts and more about small, daily gestures of love?

What if it’s less about being first to cross the finish line and more about being the one who stops to help the fallen?

What if it’s less about what it looks like and more about the fact they did it by themselves?

What if it’s less about measuring up to their peers and more about baring the colors of their souls?

What if it’s less about who’s right and more about forgiveness when wronged?

What if it’s less about what the “experts” say and more about the fact you’ve looked into those eyes since the day they were born?

What if it’s less about complicated theories and more about plain and simple love?

What if it’s not written in a book but written on the heart of each individual child—how to parent, that is.

Let Your Heart Be Your Guide

What if? Truthfully, I don’t know. But something tells me if I made it more about our love, our trust, and our faith and less about society’s opinion, beliefs, and standards, I could breathe easier. And my child could breathe easier, too.

Then maybe one day we’ll look back, my grown child and I, and we’ll celebrate the way we navigated life—not by following mainstream society, but by letting our hearts be our guide.

So until that day comes, I’ll cover her with a good dose of sunscreen and unconditional love.

And go easy on all the other stuff.

What societal or cultural pressures have you questioned? What gut instincts have you followed despite going against expert opinions or the ideals of mainstream society? What pressures do you want to let go of?

My child sat down at the picnic table delightedly admiring the heaping sno-cone she held in her hand. Suddenly, a look of worry came across her face. “Do I have to rush, Mama?”

I could have cried.

Here was my child simply wanting to enjoy her icy treat, but she feared she would have to eat quickly and perhaps not have time to finish it down to the last tasty drop. Hearing the word “rush” upon her small lips was disheartening. But for many years, I lived life in a rush. “Hurry up” became a worn-out phrase in my daily vocabulary.

Live in Today

As my child looked up at me waiting to know if she could take her time, I knew I had a choice. I could sit there in sorrow thinking about the number of times I rushed my child through life … or I could celebrate the fact that today things are different.

I chose to live in today.

“You don’t have to rush. Just take your time,” I said gently. Her whole face instantly brightened and her shoulders relaxed.

And so we sat side-by-side talking about things that ukulele-playing-six-year-olds talk about. There were even moments when we sat in silence just smiling at each other and admiring the sights and sounds around us.

The Sweetness of Life

I thought my child was going to eat the whole darn thing—but when she got to the last bite, she held out a spoonful of ice crystals and sweet juice for me. “I saved the last bite for you, Mama,” my daughter said proudly.

As I let the icy goodness quench my thirst, I realized I just got the deal of a lifetime.

I gave my child a little time … and in return, she gave me her last bite and reminded me that things taste sweeter and love comes easier when we take pause in the busyness of life.

What pressures do you experience that make you rush your children? Have you discovered any ways for slowing down and simply being with the ones you love?

When my daughter was three, someone told me during a toddler art class that I needed to “toughen her up” because she was too sensitive and “would have a rough life ahead.” When my daughter and I got home, I looked into my child’s big brown eyes that held so much promise and declared, “I will never ever ‘toughen you up.’ Mark my words: someday that tender heart inside you will be your gift.”

It wasn’t until I was cleaning out my daughter’s backpack six years later that I received confirmation for nurturing my child’s tender heart rather than trying to change it.

At the bottom of her book bag there was a speech she had written and recited to her class before being voted class president in a mock election.

My daughter wrote:

“I would very much like to be your class president. I am hard working. I am very kind. I take care of the animals and the plants. I have self-control. I am very brave and honest. I am caring and a little curious. I am very smart and fun. I make a good leader. I care about other people. I am so exided to be one of the class presitents. Please vote for me.”

I cried as I held that paper.

I cried for every little boy whose parents are told he is too rambunctious, too inquisitive, too loud.

I cried for every little girl whose parents are told her head is in the clouds, that she is a daydreamer and too much of a free spirit.

I cried for every little boy whose parents are told he is too small, too weak, and too timid to ever play the game.

I cried for every little girl whose parents are told she is too clumsy, too uncoordinated, too slow to ever succeed.

I cried for the mother who was told her child needed to be toughened up and for every year that mother waited for the moment she would know she had done the right thing by nurturing that tender heart.

The moment was now.

There was cause for celebration. Not because I had been “right.” Oh no, there was something much more miraculous to celebrate.

In the act of protecting, nurturing, and encouraging that overly sensitive heart at age three, my child’s gift had blossomed.

And what was more important than the fact the world could see and appreciate her gift was the fact that she could see it herself.

I shudder to think if I had tried to change her, mold her into something she was not. What would I have destroyed in my beautiful child?

I was certain she could have never written these words, her purpose, her future in clear legible letters.

Herein lies the flip side to an overly sensitive heart—and it’s a beautiful sight to behold.

Do your children have any “weaknesses” that with time and nurturing could become strengths? How might your life be different if someone had given you this gift?

I will never forget the day I was with a group of girls and they declared my arm the “biggest” one of all. I was only a child, but those words stuck with me and forever changed my self-perception. What I had considered to be an average-size frame was now “big.” Even at my smallest size, I still felt “big.” It’s only been in the past three years that have I began to silence the inner critic and see myself with loving eyes.

My daughters are now at or near the age I was when my view of myself was forever altered. It’s tempting to resort to drastic measures in order to protect them from the pain that one negative comment caused me. It’s tempting to try and control every morsel they put in their mouths … to tell them what clothes look best on their bodies … or dictate how much exercise they get each day.

Encourage & Empower

I don’t want my children to be held captive to a number on the scale or a dress size as I was for so long. Instead, I choose to encourage and empower my children, and this is how I do it …

• Instead of analyzing what they eat in terms of calories, fat, and sugar, we talk about food as fuel and learn what foods are most useful and beneficial to the body. We talk about where food comes from, and I try to model healthy eating habits as often as I can.
• Instead of criticizing my soft thighs and weak arms, I engage my 41-year-old body as much as possible. I invite my children to exercise with me and we do things we enjoy like walking, biking, cartwheels, and dancing to our favorite music.
• Instead of endorsing society’s unrealistic and non-diverse standard of beauty, I point out “beautiful” in all forms, shapes, and sizes. I strive to emphasize beauty in a person’s actions and essence—rather than in appearance.
• Instead of using words like fat, bulge, cellulite, skinny, and thin, I use words like strong, capable, bright, and brave. I stress the importance of using our inner gifts to bring love and beauty to the world.

Strong Arms

I wish I could go back to my nine-year-old self and tell her what those “big” arms would eventually go on to do. I would tell her that those arms would play complicated pieces on the violin … they would deliver a mean backhand in tennis at the collegiate level … they would support many special education students through years of teaching and encouraging.

But most importantly, those strong arms would eventually be the guiding force of unconditional love for two capable and extraordinary little girls who would go on to do great things with their own strong arms someday.

How do you encourage healthy life habits in your children? What are your biggest obstacles in doing so? What has worked most effectively?

When my child was fourteen-months-old, she had an aversion to shoes and preferred “walking” everywhere on her knees. I worried that she’d still be using this unconventional form of migration to cross the stage at her high school graduation. But alas, my once knee-shuffling child now has no problem wearing shoes and walks on her feet. (She sometimes even sprints … to the ice cream truck.)

When child was two, she was painfully shy and her bottom lip actually quivered if another child even looked at her the wrong way. I worried that she would always be overly sensitive and unable to stand up for herself. But alas, my once shy and introverted daughter is now a social butterfly (as described by her teacher) who often steps forward to stand up for those who are unable to stand up for themselves.

When my child was three, she had an extreme fear of dogs. I worried that she would continue to hyperventilate in the presence of any furry, four-legged creature. But alas, my once pooch-fearing child is now a great pet sitter for our neighbors and especially loves walking the dogs.

When my child was four, she had a disdain for forks and preferred eating everything with her hands. I worried that she would forever gnaw on her food like a caveperson. But alas, my once hands-on eater is now complimented on her polite table manners whenever she has dinner with family friends.

When my child was five, she couldn’t ride a bike and had no interest in doing so.

I worried that she would experience years of ridicule if she did not acquire this skill when all the other neighborhood children did. But alas, my once exclusive walker now takes bike rides with friends—the same friends who learned to ride far earlier than she did.

Are You Robbed of Today?

When my child was six, I saw a pattern of parental worry—needless parental worry. It occurred to me that much of what I worried about had a way of working out in time—in my child’s own time. And by living in a state of worry, I was robbing myself of the gifts of today.

My perspective of parenting changed when I wrote down these painful truths about Worry:

• Worry can remove you from the most beautiful moments of your life … as if you aren’t even there.
• Worry can steal meaningful experiences right from your memory bank … as if they didn’t even happen.
• Worry can prevent you from experiencing happiness, passion, and joy … as if you merely existed, rather than truly lived.

Replace Worry with Trust

Worry took plenty of my moments that matter; therefore, I refuse to give Worry any more of them. Now when I begin to go down the path of worry, I stop myself by saying one word: Trust.

• Trust that worrying will do nothing to change the outcome.
• Trust that my child will be where she needs to be in her own time.
• Trust that things will work out as they should.

And when I choose to focus on all that is going right in my life and let go of that which I cannot control, I am free to live more and love more in the precious day at hand.

How does worry rob you of precious moments with your children? What worries you the most? How might you let go to live more and love more?