This summer, Arturo and I visited the Chicago Botanic Gardens. My favorite spot is the Bonsai exhibit. I am always in awe of the age of these little trees, ranging from 35 to over 100 years old! You may not know this, but Arturo studied agricultural engineering.
He commented, as we went from bonsai to bonsai, how the trunk tells a story. In some cases, the trunk had gone through periods of drought. He pointed to the areas that were affected by it. Then there was a time with plenty of water. That too could be seen in the trunk if you knew what to look for. Other things he pointed out were insect infestation, weather damage, etc. The resilience is remarkable and the beauty impressive.
In parenting and in life, I’m pretty sure I can say with certainty that we all carry a level of regret and guilt. I just can’t imagine a scenario in parenting, for example, where that wouldn’t be the case. It may disguise itself as anger or disappointment at times when we are not self-aware, but I think at the core, it’s this awful feeling we get from the reality that we are not perfect and therefore will make mistakes. But the bonsai gives me hope.
Those trees have endured drought, storms, insects, and damage. If you know what to look for, you can see the evidence written into their trunks. The marks are there. The history is there. The difficult seasons are there.
And yet, they are still growing.
In fact, many of the characteristics that make them unique and beautiful are the very things that came from those difficult seasons. Their scars did not stop their growth, they are part of it.
As parents, we replay the moments we wish we could do over. The words we wish we hadn’t said. The opportunities we missed. The seasons when we were overwhelmed, distracted, exhausted, or simply doing the best we could with what we knew at the time.
But our children are not finished growing, no matter how old they are.
In fact, neither are we.
One of the greatest gifts we can give our children is not perfection. It is humility. It is the willingness to learn, to apologize, to reconnect, and to keep showing up.
The truth is that every family has a story. Every family has seasons of drought and seasons of abundance. Every parent has moments they are proud of and moments they wish they could rewrite.
The goal was never to have a flawless story.
The goal is to keep growing.
As I walked away from the bonsai exhibit, I found myself grateful—not because I suddenly felt like I had done everything right as a parent, but because I was reminded that growth is still possible. The tree is still growing. Our kids are still learning. And by God’s grace, we are still growing and learning too.