As promised, from "Khalil Gibran: The Prophet."

"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 your 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."

Wow. I just love that. I think I could probably go through each one of my previous posts (and all the ones to come) and find some way that a part of this missive could apply.

The first time I was introduced to this piece was a few days after my mother died. That's been almost 20 years ago. I asked my grandmother if she was bitter or angry with God. After all, she had buried two of her children. A circumstance that some would say is not the "natural order" of things.

My grandmother looked shocked and said, "Bitter? Angry? Lord, child, no! I had your mother for 55 years. I had her brother for 23 years. The only thing I am, is thankful. Even in the middle of all this pain." She stopped what she was doing-rinsing out a glass at the sink-turned to me and recited the part of the piece above about your children not being your children and being able to house their bodies but not their souls. Then she smoothed out her slacks and pulled sharply at her blouse with her wrinkled hands and walked away. Well, there you go. At the age of 30 and in less than ten minutes, I had just been taught a thing or two, by a real Woman.

At the time, I think I was more moved by my grandmother's rock solid conviction and faith that things were as they were meant to be than by the actual words that she was quoting from Khalil Gibran. Almost a month after my mother died I found the reference and that was my first introduction to the entire piece. I have to admit that I didn't completely understand it at the time, although parts of it resonated with me quite clearly, given the place of raw grief and profound longing where I then stood.

As the years have gone by and I have become a mother three times over, by birth and through adoption, I feel like I gain a new insight almost every time I read it. It gave my grandmother comfort in times of sorrow and loss about her children. It gives me comfort in times of joy and hope about mine. How neat is that?