Untamed

Recently, Abby, the kids, and I were lying on the couch together watching one of our favorite family shows. During an intense scene, it became clear that the family’s teenage daughter was about to tell her parents that she was queer. She and her parents stood around their kitchen island and she said, “I have to tell you something. I like girls.”

In the pause that followed, the TV parents and all five of us on the couch collectively held our breath.

The mother took her daughter by the hand and said, “We love you…”

I whispered, “Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it.”

“…no matter what.”

Damnit. She said it.

I knew this show was trying to be progressive, to prove that these parents embraced their daughter’s gayness just as much as they’d embrace her straightness. I wondered, though, if this girl had just told her parents that she liked boys, would the mother have said, “We love you no matter what”? Of course not. Because “no matter what” is what we say when someone has disappointed us.

If my son got caught cheating on a test, I’d dole out a consequence and then assure him that I love him no matter what. If my daughter told me that she’d just robbed a bank, I’d hold her hand and tell her that I love her no matter what. The “no matter what” would imply that even though my child had done something that fell short of my expectations, my love is still strong enough to hold her.

When it comes to who my children are, I don’t want to be an Expectations Parent. I don’t want my kids striving to meet an arbitrary list of preconceived goals I have created for them. I want to be a Treasure Hunt Parent. I want to encourage my children to spend their lives digging, uncovering more and more about who they already are, and then sharing what they discover with those lucky enough to be trusted by them. When my child uncovers a gem inside and pulls it out for me to see, I want to widen my eyes and gasp and applaud. In other words: If my daughter told me she was gay, I would not love her in spite of it, I would love her because of it.

What if parenting became less about telling our children who they should be and more about asking them again and again forever who they already are? Then, when they tell us, we would celebrate instead of concede.

It’s not: I love you no matter which of my expectations you meet or don’t meet.

It’s: My only expectation is that you become yourself. The more deeply I know you, the more beautiful you become to me.

If someone tells you who they are, consider how lucky you are to be graced with that gift.

Don’t respond with an eviction notice, a permission slip, or a concession speech.

Un-God yourself.

Gasp in awe and applaud with gusto.