One of the hardest parts of being a parent is knowing that no matter how much you want to keep your children safe from danger, you may not always be able to do so.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I were joyfully preparing for our first Christmas as a family in our new home. We decided several months ago to move closer to our family in East Texas and bought a house in the historic neighborhood of hometown, Texarkana.
Just a few days before Christmas, our holiday plans were turned upside down. We came home after a night out with family to find glass shattered all over the floor in our daughter’s room. It took a moment for reality to sink in and for us to realize that someone had broken into our home through her room. Fortunately only a laptop was stolen, and only minimal damage was done to the house.
But our experience quickly took root in me in the form of deep, primal fear.
Two thoughts kept creeping around in my head in the days that followed our break-in: first, that someone had broken into a home, was confronted by evidence that a young child lived there, and was not deterred; second, that a stranger now had possession of every photo we had taken of our daughter since her birth.
I struggled for days with how to cope with what had happened and how to move forward. My inward struggle finally erupted outwardly, and I spent one evening shortly after sobbing for hours until I fell asleep.
I felt as if my world had been shattered along with that glass. My optimism and my faith were undermined. The world seemed to be a truly evil place filled with people seeking only to do harm. And at the root of it all was the realization that in many ways, I am powerless to protect my daughter against danger.
Many people have commented to us that it was a good thing we weren’t home at the time. What if we had been home? There is a good chance that none of this would have happened, but there is also the possibility that things could have ended up even worse than they did. And what about all those photos of my daughter? No matter how small the risk that those images end up in the wrong hands, I can’t stop myself from thinking the worst.
My mother has always reminded me that worrying will not stop trouble from finding me but will likely make me miserable until it does. And never before have I felt more worried about anything in my life than I do about my daughter. I cannot save her from evil. I cannot keep her safe all the time. And so I struggle with how to balance that reality with my desire to see her grow into an independent, self-reliant, curious and courageous person. Sheltering her and giving into my own fears will only discourage those traits in her, and may not even protect her entirely.
Becoming a parent is an ongoing process, similar to becoming a skilled mountain climber. You are constantly faced with new obstacles that require you to adjust your perspective and your approach. I have been confronted with my own limitations as a parent, and because of that I have learned one thing that will always be true: each moment with my child where she is kept safe from harm is a gift to be forever thankful for.
