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Children learn from what parents give up — not what they give

The photographs were everywhere. Strewn across the bed, heaped on the carpet.

“What are you doing?” I barked as I strode into my bedroom with an armload of folded laundry the morning before Mother’s Day.

My 12-year-old son grinned sheepishly, caught red-handed.

“I was . . . well, I was . . .”

Snooping, obviously.

My 12-year-old is the official Closet Spelunker in our home. It may be covered with boxes and wrapped with 100 yards of duct tape, but he will somehow manage to break into it.

“You should have asked first,” I snapped, glaring at the pile of stuff he’d extracted from the closet to find the olive green canvas tool satchel that had followed my Navy ex-husband — his father — home years ago from the sub tender he was with at the time.

I began scooping handfuls of pictures back into the satchel.

“If I wanted you to see these, I would have shown them to you,” I sighed.

Suddenly there it was. Sitting in my hand, sifted from the photos and memorabilia I was busy stuffing back into that bag.

The envelope was crumpled and creased. The letter inside was dated Sept. 1, 1990.

I sunk in silence onto the edge of the bed.

“Dear Debi,” she’d written nearly 17 years ago. “Being a part of your family has given me a different outlook on life. I’ve begun to see just how much a mother must do for her children.

“I realize now that a mother provides more than new video games, trips and brand-name clothing. Things I always thought were important.

“It’s so sad that it takes years for people to realize what a parent — a mother — provides while they’re growing up. My observation of you as a mother has given me a new insight on parenting that I had not been aware of before. I want to thank you for letting me get to know you. With fate bringing me to your home, I found out more about myself, my parents, understanding that there is more to life than material things. I used to feel a lot of anger toward my parents for not providing me with all the things that other kids receive while growing up. Now, I understand why.

“From watching you, I’ve realized they did the very best job that they knew how to do. I know now they are only human and make mistakes, too. I see all you are giving your children. One day they will realize what you’ve done for them. I can’t thank you enough for letting me share the time I’ve had with you.”

Instantly, time rolled back in my mind to the early spring of 1990. War in the Persian Gulf was brewing. Commands had encouraged sailors to send spouses and children home prior to the battle group’s deployment to the Mediterranean that year. No one knew how long the war might last. “Six months at least” was the typical military-grapevine projection at the time.

I didn’t want to leave, but I finally gave in, making the 1,500 mile trek back to my hometown in Minnesota for the duration of the war. There, an 18-year-old enlisted soldier became my roommate for several months before her Army unit deployed to the Gulf.

We fell out of touch with each other a year after her unit deployed. So she had no way of knowing what lessons I’d learn as my views on parenting changed over the years, shaped by heartbreaks and hardships.

Lessons like loving our children more than we despise our exes.

Remember all those lofty ideals about parenthood we clung to so fiercely when that newborn slept in our arms? Sure, you do.

Kids need to know from us that it’s okay to love that person as a parent after divorce. That respecting them is the right thing to do.

If you love your child, you will give those lofty ideals the boot and help your child feel close to that parent who gets weekend visitation, the parent who stands on the outside of that child’s daily life and yet still tries somehow to play a significant role within it.

Lessons like learning to love our children enough to be able to let go. When we first moved to Norfolk, my two oldest sons were in middle school, unable to adapt to life so far away from what they knew in our small hometown in Minnesota. After a year, they were intensely unhappy and yearned to go back.

I could have forced them to stay, but I didn’t. I could have made them feel ashamed for wanting something precious they’d left behind, but I forced myself not to.

Letting them go was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But, as I’ve learned from that excruciating experience, motherhood is about selfless sacrifice simply for the sake of what’s right for the children we love.

In the few months she spent with us, my Minnesota roommate only saw the struggle of a military mother trying to raise a family alone during war. She never saw the personal sacrifices, the bending and understanding that also were a part of motherhood long after that Gulf War ended. Chances are, she’s a mother herself now and knows that part too.

Mother’s Day has come and gone, but those of us who know the journey well, already realize it isn’t what we receive that makes that day memorable, but what we’ve given to our children every other day throughout the year that matters most.

It’s the stuff we teach them through our own giving that will turn them into loving, giving, devoted parents to their own children one day.

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Debi Ketner, a 14-year military spouse, is married to a retired Navy senior chief petty officer. She lives in Norfolk, Va. Get in touch with her or join the conversation in The Home Front blog at http://www.militarytimes.com/blogs/homefront.