..in response to a post by lili...of suddenly heta...
..the canvasses of my life..
..we say that children are like pieces of white cloth...its up to us as parents to ascertain the colours..
true..up to a point..
..but sometimes the canvas took on it own shade and hues.with utter disregard to the colours of their parents choice..consternating, yes...but we learned to adjust the paint..and accept that even pieces of cloth have their own minds..for such as it is with children..we can only prod and nudge..make suggestions..but in the end, much to our chagrin, they make their own choices...
..but what if the canvas is not as perfect as we would like it to be?
..any painter will tell you that the quality of the canvas is just as important as the paint..
..what if it is deformed?..or physically-handicapped..? or mentally-retarded?..how are we going to colour that canvas?
I always try to imagine, and cringed with despair at my failed attempts to set free my imaginations, the hardship and the throes of anguish, parents of such children have to go through, in trying to paint some colours onto their children...and I cannot put a measure on their sacrifices...or their love..the devotion and the patience..and the constraint on their time..
..for I know that if I were to slip into their shoes... I could never take on their load...