Of all the roles that can be a thread to meaning and purpose in our lives, none is stronger than the role of parent. When our daughters were born, my former husband and I learned quickly that children do not simply merge seamlessly and magically into the relationship Mom and Dad have already established. The adjustments required can by themselves become a spiritual thread to acceptance, giving, and an absolute commitment to something, or someone, outside ourselves. One thing on which all parents agree is that, whether you are eighteen or thirty-eight, you are never really prepared for having children. I was thirty-eight. And, yes, I picked up quickly on the diaper-changing and baby-burping routines. But what about the total surrender of my being -- my sleep, my body, my interests, my friendships, my goals -- to the well-being of another? Nothing could have prepared me for that. But all the sacrifices, all the loss of control and independence in my life were trivial compared to the gains. What's more, they were necessary losses, welcome sheddings on the way from self-absorption to self-knowing.
