It Takes A Village

Be forewarned: this is yet another post mixed with bringing up baby. Shocker, right? But no baby pics. I post enough of those on Instagram. However, I do feel that having a child has made me more introspective than normal. And I promise, this ties into things other than how amazing my daughter is.

For the past couple of months I can't help but think about how I could never raise a child on my own. For example, a few months ago after a Sunday dinner at Scott's parents' home, the entire family participated in helping Corinne learn how to crawl on all fours. The poor gal was downward-dogging all over the place or inadvertently scooting backwards, and it was time to get her moving with purpose. We placed books under her hands, and my father-in-law pumped her legs, my sister-in-law stabilized her middle, all while I moved the books in sync with her legs.  That was all it took (three grown adults on the floor) - and the wee lass hasn't looked back since mastering her new skill of freedom.

Shortly thereafter, following yet another Sunday dinner, my mother-in-law worked on teaching Corinne to crawl up on something using a box like unto a mid-sized cardboard priority mailer. The very next day while getting ready for work, I turned to see my hard-working daughter sitting atop the landing at the bottom of our stairs (one step up from the main floor). Then this:

Corinne constantly surprises me with new tricks: clapping her hands, saying "uh oh," and playing peek-a-boo. While I know I do those things with her, I can't take the credit - it goes to everyone around her who influences the course of this growing human being's life.

And it isn't just those in close proximity. Many friends in far-away places also take part in the shaping of my daughter. Those who I've watched for years, raising their own the best they can, who impress me with their love, wit, and creativity. Who inspire me with a goal and a vision of a family.

There's also those who were in my own village as a child, who will probably never fully comprehend (or let alone even have an inkling of) the effect they had on my life and on what kind of person I am now. The youth leaders, the teachers, the parents of friends, the older kids; some of their parts consisted of short cameos, but their presence proved crucial nonetheless. Some still actively participate in the drama (Comedy? Romance? Tragedy? Depends on the act and scene, I suppose).

This reminds me of a question I brought while teaching a scripture study class at church yesterday - how has the testimony of another person affected your own testimony?

Did a person ever walk through your village and leave an abiding footprint?

One of my most vivid life-shaping experiences occurred my sophomore year at BYU. I've never been your ultra-conservative, ever-faithful, never-asking-questions kind of person. I want to know why I shouldn't go against the grain. I want to push the limit of my understanding and beliefs.

At that time, I wavered with my stance on abortion rights. My tent stood adamantly in the pro-choice camp (for many reasons, which may or may not be discussed another day). Yet, I questioned myself. I knew what my church preached and struggled to gain testimony of this pro-life concept.

One nondescript Sunday, hymns were sung, bread and water were partaken, and talks were given. The overall theme was that of tithes and offerings. Half-listening, thinking "I already pay my ten percent," I was blind-sided by one girl's closing testimony. She spoke of sacrifice. More importantly, she testified of the critical and gut-wrenching sacrifice of her birth mother's choice to let another family raise and adopt her. Her mother could have decided to terminate - it wasn't convenient to be pregnant or have a child; but terminate she did not. She made the most selfless decision from what seemingly began as quite a selfish one. Thanks to her mother's sacrifice, she grew up in a loving and faithful home, and ended up receiving an education at BYU. She felt unending gratitude to this woman and the choice to not only let her live, but live with another family.

Tears stung my eyes and I knew. I knew without question what I believed. Someone in my village quickly crossed my path, but left me with a life-changing impression. That day I chose to promote life; and just like when Corinne learned how to crawl, I haven't looked back.

I pray that I can bring up my daughter in a good village - one filled with laughter, confidence, stability, and affection. One that lends itself to random people coming in and shaping her to do good things. I'm grateful for the sea of faces I see when I think about the village that raised me; and the one that I continue to surround myself with today. But when I really think about it... I feel as though I never really left one and went to another; rather, my village just keeps on getting bigger and better.