A love letter to the child, and the child within us all

A Love Letter to the Child and the Parent

by Meg O'Keeffe

I am here to make a difference.
Not a loud, world-stage difference,
But a deep one.
A difference in how we love and understand ourselves and each other.
A difference in how we see the young child, how we accept them, 
and how we see and accept ourselves.

I am here to advocate for the child,
the young one who cannot yet speak the language of adults,
but who speaks so fluently in presence, in play, in tears,
in just being.

And I am here for the parents.
The ones who are afraid.
The ones who feel like they’re failing, before they’ve even begun.
The ones who carry the weight of their own unmet childhoods
into the tiny arms of the next generation.

So many of us became parents with the secret hope
that maybe this child would redeem us.
That maybe, if we could raise them well enough,
strong enough, kind enough,
we could finally prove, to the world and to ourselves,
that we are not the failure we fear we are.

But parenting isn’t a redemption story.
It’s a remembering.

So often, we try so hard.
We believe we are entirely responsible
for how our children “turn out.”
We forget that they come to us
with their own inner worlds, their own encoded wisdom.

Our job is not to perfect them,
but to know them.
To relax into the relationship,
to enjoy who they are,
not who we think they need to be
to quiet our fears.

Our children don’t need us to be perfect.

They need us to be real.
To be brave enough to feel.
To sit with our grief and touch our joy.
To meet our sadness with gentleness.
To awaken to the ecstasy of being alive.

Love begins with self-love.
And when we can see ourselves with gentleness,
we begin to see our children clearly, too.
Not as mirrors of our worth.
Not as projects to fix or people to mold.
But as souls to witness.
As teachers.
As gifts.

This has been my life’s work.
To understand the young child.
To support parents in looking inward.
To cultivate the courage it takes to feel, and to realize, 
what our child is here to teach us.

I have learned to trust life.
To let each moment build upon the last,
to let the unfolding guide me.
Every experience, every heartbreak,
every moment of awe, has been a step on the path.

Life is not what we think it is.
It’s not a test.
It’s not a punishment.
It’s not even that serious.

It’s a magnificent, multilayered dream
where we all play a part in each other’s stories.
A cosmic play.
A funny, messy, heartbreaking, joyful movie.
And if we can pause long enough, 
just long enough to feel, 
we will see it for what it is:
an invitation to grow.

This is my opus.
A love letter to the child,
and to the child within us all.