God has no grandchildren. This feels like a good place to start this piece about being a conscious parent. The axiom reminds me of the words of Kahlil Gibran that our children are sent from the archer and are “the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.... They come through you but not from you.”

Even though we refer to them as our children, we recognize that the beings who come through us are ultimately not our own. We cherish them; have ultimate love, reverence, and respect for them; and have ultimate trust in the One to whom they really belong. We have been, we might say, divinely appointed caretaker positions to provide them with safeguards, support, guidance, supervision, nurturance, and love. We are their tour guides as they become accustomed to this planet and learn the ropes to use in the self-evolution of their souls.

My kids are pretty cool, if I do say so myself, but when anyone congratulates me on how I have raised my children or commends me for the delightful beings they are, an inner certainty compels me to reply, “Actually, they came with all their splendor. I was just fortunate enough to recognize that my part was to adore them, help them discover, support their beingness, and then endeavor, as much as possible, to get out of the way of their expressions of magnificence.” I just don’t feel as if I can take credit for how awesome they are! (Well, maybe, a little.)