One of the most memorable bedtime stories that my husband would often narrate to our kids when they were babies was about a mother and her child. Apparently when the child became an adult he was put behind bars for doing something wrong and when his mother comes to visit him, he bites her ear asking her why she had she never corrected him as a young boy whenever he had done something wrong.
This is a good premise for parents to often remind children that any wrong behaviour or action has to be corrected or nipped in the bud instead of allowing it to grow into something that would only possibly lead to a situation quite similar to the predicament of the man in the story who lands in prison.
But with time and as our children, both boys, have been growing up, the story had to be tweaked a little. And I have so many friends, dads and moms in particular who are raising boys and doing the same. I have been often relating to that story and reminding Vikram and Varun that it is very important to own up to one’s mistakes instead of finding someone else to blame.
Besides giving good values and correcting bad behaviour, a man and woman once they become parents, both have the responsibility to also practice the virtue of forgiveness and inculcate the sense of responsibility for one’s own actions. Why you may ask? It is simple. The man in the story was no longer a child but an adult and therefore completely responsible for what he does and cannot hold his upbringing alone to be the cause for the crime that he had committed as an adult. And instead of holding his mother responsible for his action, all he could do was take responsibility and in turn forgive his mother for something she had done unintentionally. As, no mother or parent would ever want their children to be bad.
Recently I stumbled on a super Christmas song that has helped support this new version of the story. One of my cousins, Dolrich, sent this most beautiful song sung by Kathy Mattea, who had won a Grammy award for the same, ‘Mary did you know?’
I had not heard this one very keenly before. But it has been the most beautiful and moving song that I have heard till date. It made me cry like a baby. And most importantly it has strengthened my convictions and has brought more meaning to the celebration of Christmas.
“Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Will save our sons and daughters? Has come to make you new?
This child that you’ve delivered, will soon deliver you
Will give sight to a blind man? Will calm a storm with his hand?
Has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.
Mary did you know, The blind will see, the deaf will hear and the dead will live again
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb
Is Lord of all creation? Will one day rule the nations?
Is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you’re holding is the great I am”
No mother knows, no father knows, no parent knows what his or her child will be. How high, how far he or she will soar. How great he or she will be in his or her own way.
But every mother (and parent) leaves no stone unturned to raise that child with love, care, devotion, dedication, unconditionally. Shaping their consciences, their emotional health, shaping their characters and personalities, shaping their values of a home and a family. Expecting no rewards. But continually making sacrifices and hardships to ensure a strong foundation for the child’s positive growth.
A mother (and parent) also fulfills the commitment of parenthood in a marriage, to be there in every moment, to witness every milestone. That first skating marathon. That first volley into the goal. That first meeting with a football icon. That first published poem. That first published article. That first performance of the Atlantis. That first jam up with popular musicians. That first match escorting with the captain of the State football team. That first magic act. That first godhe modni and drill on Liberation Day. That first late night with colony friends making either a crib or the narakasur. That first time learning to cycle. That first time cycling into the city. That first night camp with friends. That first road trip with friends. That first saw scaled viper sighting. That first futsal win. That first blog post. That first painting. That first published photograph. That first cheque from a publishing house. That first cat rescue. That first ride in the rains. That first sighting of the Komodo dragon. That first glimpse of the Bali starling. That first cowrie shell added to family collection. That first bouncy jeep ride. That first sight of sunbird babies nesting on the home terrace.
And not just to be there for the highs but also the lows. That first reprimand at school. That first scraping of a knee while cycling. That first fallen tooth. That first sleep terror. That first day at the hospital. That first visit to the doctor. That first climb up the mountain. That first snorkeling attempt. That first sprained ankle. That first bump on the head against the street lamp. That first near accident on the way to Church. That first near rolling off the cliff. That first humiliation from those that were family.
A mother (and parent) stands rooted to her child. No matter what. Alone too.
Because a child is a gift. Not a product of a marriage. A child is not one to own but to cherish.
That child will one day raise a family, lay the foundations of a home and a community. Lead an entire country or simply be a great example to humanity.
Like the baby boy, like Christ child.
And therefore, be like Mary.
Love unconditionally, patiently, devotedly.
Mary Christmas to you.
