Skip to main content

Village People

Remember when Hillary Clinton caused such an uproar when she wrote that it 'takes it village' to raise a child? I think Jerry Falwell and Rush Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich lambasted Clinton for believing such a communist ideology; I recall the argument that it was the parents right to raise a child as they saw fit.

The other day I saw a bumper sticker (wish I could find it because it would be on my bumper for sure) that read: "Forget the village, what about the parents?"

While I believe to my core that it is the parent's responsibility to raise a child, there are parents that cannot for a variety of reasons. We experienced a little of that this past spring when John was undergoing cancer treatment in Ann Arbor and we both needed to be away from home. Thankfully, my mom was able to come and be here with Matthew and Delaney. And there were many 'village people' out there helping to raise our children in countless ways. Big and small.

I overheard a conversation that my son Matthew was having about a dear friend of mine and a woman that became part of his village during the cancer treatment. He described Sherry as his second mother during that time - I cannot tell you how much it touched my heart and soul to hear. I had no idea before listening in the depth of his emotions and the level to which the village (in this case Sherry) stepped up for my dear, sweet son.

I am confident that if Michael and Delaney were to have similar conversations, I would hear similar tales of parenting from the village. I can almost imagine who those village people/parents might be. And here's the thing - I am okay with it. John and I are, and always will be, the parents - you know the ones that have the primary responsibility of raising our children. Yet there are other adults in the lives of all children that are watching out for them - in this case Sherry and others. We are blessed.

So, I applaud the previously mentioned bumper sticker - but I know that there are times when the village can gratefully step in for the three not-so-little Piggins. After all, parenting is sometimes difficult and it's nice to have a village to lean on. For my own village people, a heartfelt thank you for being there when John and I could not - to my Mom, Sherry White, Chris Kiger, Kris VanLoon, Karen Bush, Pam Edmunds, Lois Miller and the many others that I am unable to name. I love my village. People.

Comments

  1. As someone who has a village (and it's a rather large village), Eric and I do cherish each individual and their contributions to our daugters. Grace knows Polish words and loves Polish food from her cousins, Aunt Joanna, and Babcia (who although not Grace's grandma, comes often enough to visit her granddaugthers that Grace thinks of her as Babcia too). Grace eats Filipino food and tries to order it in restaurants because of my parents who feed her daily. Grace loves the library and all it has to offer because of her Grandma and Grandpa Hudson. Grace knows who Bumblebee is because Uncle Tim lets her watch movies with him. I can keep going and going....

    Our life is full of Grandma and Grandpas (blood-related and not), Aunts and Uncles (blood-related and not), and cousins (blood-related and not) - and while it may have it challenges at times, the positives far outweigh any of them.

    Eric and I do not take this for granted and thank God for all our blessings every day in giving us the family (blood-related and not) we have today.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Tough time to be a Pollyanna

Remember when 9/11 was just a date or a number you called in an emergency? Our lives changed dramatically post 9/11. For weeks after that September day, we seemed to walk around in a fog, like the haze that loomed over the now-fallen twin towers. I remember trying to minimize my obsession with the news, trying to keep the three little Piggins away from the enormity of the disaster. Remember when corona was simply a beer best served with a lime wedge? It now and forever will be instead associated with this virus that has upended our world in ways we could never have imagined. This tiny little, microscopic virus has brought the mighty to their knees. It has us quarantined and distancing socially (though I believe we've been doing this emotionally for years) and working from home. As anxiety peaks, our economy tanks. As toilet paper and hand sanitizer flies off the shelves, we are looking for new ways to stock our pantries. A good friend observed, "I never thought I'd...

Treatment begins

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Today is the day I begin, at last, treatment. Today is the day I begin to kick cancer's ass. Today is the day I start infusing ugly, nasty, side-affect laden, toxic chemicals for the greater good. Today is a day that I wish I could rewrite the script for completely deleting the part requiring me to need breast cancer chemo. And yet, here it is and at 1:15 EST I will be at the Cancer & Hematology Center in Holland. It's where I will be a lot for the next five months. It's where I will, I'm sure (and surety is something I have less of these days as I know not how I will respond to chemo), create new friendships and forge bonds with people that I am currently unfamiliar. Because that's who I am; a lover of people and a woman that wants to know and love on all the people she comes to meet.  I don't know why I have breast cancer but someday I will ask God (along with a whole bunch of other questions!). I do b...

Christmas cards

I sat down to reluctantly address Christmas cards. While our list has slowly dwindled through the years it's still a sizeable number, especially when it's viewed as a task approached reluctantly . Know what I mean? Some Christmas 'tasks' are a lot less taskier - like decorating or shopping or eating or opening presents. I mean, there's a whole different level of enthusiasm associated with 'tasks' that aren't viewed as tasks - I can't ever remember a time when I sat down to reluctantly open a present or eat a Christmas cookie! Anyway, I approached the Christmas card addressing with a less-than-positive, more bah-humbugish attitude. I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed the markers (I had to have a green, a red and a black one), the list and of course the envelopes (which John had already stuffed with the card). I turned on some Christmas music, but not too loud or it would distract me (and it really doesn't take much to distract me. Squirrel!),...