"Children don’t need perfect parents. They need parents whose relationship with Hashem feels real."
— Yaffa Palti
One of my favorite parenting moments isn’t something we plan. It’s something
our children accidentally overhear.
“Hashem, please help me remember where I left my phone.”
Or...
“Thank You, Hashem. I was really nervous about that conversation.”
Or even...
“Wow... I didn’t see that coming. Thank You.”
Those tiny conversations may seem insignificant to us. But to a child, they’re
answering one of life’s biggest questions without saying a word:
Is Hashem Someone we only learn about...or Someone we actually live with?
Children don’t need perfect parents. (Which is fortunate, because by 8:17 on
most mornings that ship has already sailed.) They don’t need parents who
always have the right answer.
They need parents whose relationship with Hashem feels real.
Who turn to Him naturally.
Who thank Him naturally.
Who ask Him for help naturally.
Who trust naturally.
Because relationships are contagious. Our children are far more likely to build
the relationship they watched than the one we described.
Maybe that’s why parenting has a way of changing us long before it changes our
children.
We set out to teach them how to notice Hashem...and somewhere along the
way, we realize He’s been inviting us to notice Him all over again.
There’s another beautiful thing that begins to happen when we teach our
children to notice.
They don’t just become more aware of Hashem.
They become more aware of people.
After all, the same heart that notices a sunset is often the heart that notices the
child sitting alone. The same eyes that recognize blessings become the eyes
that recognize someone else’s pain.
I’ve come to believe that kindness doesn’t begin with generosity. It begins with
attention.
With noticing.
Noticing that your brother has had a hard day.
Noticing that your friend seems unusually quiet.
Noticing that someone helped clean up without being asked.
Noticing that Bubby looks especially happy when you call just to say hello.
We often think kindness begins when we decide to do something. But
maybe it begins much earlier. Maybe it begins the moment we truly see
someone.
Many of us grew up hearing the words, “Say thank you.”
And I’m grateful we did.
But imagine if instead of only those instructions, our children also grew up
hearing things like...
“Did you notice how happy that made her?”
“Did you notice how thoughtful your sister was?”
“Did you notice that your friend looked a little left out today?”
Those tiny questions gently teach our children something remarkable. To pay
attention to hearts.
Because that’s exactly what Hashem does.
He notices.
Every effort. Every tear. Every unnoticed act of kindness that no one else saw.
And when our children begin learning to notice people the way Hashem notices
people, they’re not just learning good middos. They’re learning to see the world
through His eyes.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from raising my family, it’s that children are almost
always listening. (Except for when we want them to.)
And especially when we wish they weren’t.
They hear us thank the cashier.
They hear us speak about the neighbor.
They hear us react when someone cuts us off in traffic.
They hear the words we choose... and the tone we choose to say them in.
(And they also hear the version we meant to say in our heads but thankfully
didn’t say out loud.)
They notice how we speak about people who aren’t in the room.
They notice whether we’re excited for someone else’s simcha or quietly
comparing.
They notice whether we speak about challenges with hope or with helplessness.
In other words, they’re always learning what life with Hashem sounds like.
Not during the big speeches.
During Tuesday.
One of the most beautiful things we can help our children notice isn’t something
around them. It’s something within them.
In a world that constantly encourages comparison, our children are asking a
much deeper question:
“Who did Hashem create me to be?”
And sometimes we accidentally answer a totally different question.
We celebrate the highest grade.
The loudest applause.
The winning goal.
The beautiful artwork hanging on the refrigerator.
And those moments deserve celebrating. But underneath them is a child hoping
we’ll notice something else.
“Did you notice me?”
Not what I accomplished. Not how I performed.
Me.
And that’s why one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is helping them
discover that their worth isn't something they have to earn.
It’s something they were born with. Because every child carries something no
one else in the world can offer.
A different heart.
A different personality.
A different way of making people feel.
A different mission.
Hashem wasn’t trying to make copies of people. He was creating masterpieces.
And masterpieces aren’t meant to compete with one another. They’re meant to
reveal something different about the Artist.
I sometimes wonder how many comparisons slowly disappear when a child
becomes genuinely excited about becoming herself.
When she no longer feels like she has to sing like that girl.
Or draw like that girl.
Or be funny like that girl.
Or outgoing like that girl.
She simply begins asking, “What does Hashem want to create through me?”
I can’t think of a greater gift of confidence we can give our children than
helping them realize they were never supposed to be anyone else.
"Relationships are contagious. Our children are far more likely to build the relationship they watched than the one we described."
— Yaffa Palti
