May We Be Them May We Raise Them

I remember this one time, a few years back, I was helping my neighbor, Mrs. Gable, with her garden. She’s one of those wonderfully sprightly grandmothers, you know the type? Always has a biscuit ready and a story on her lips. Anyway, we were digging up some stubborn weeds, the kind that have roots that seem to go to the center of the earth, when she sighed, a deep, contented sigh. She pointed to a tiny seedling struggling to break through the soil. “Look at that,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Just a little bit of hope pushing through.”

And it struck me, right then and there. That tiny seedling. It wasn’t just a plant. It was a promise. A promise of shade, of blossoms, maybe even of fruit someday. It was the future, fragile and insistent, demanding its chance to grow. And it made me think about all the tiny seedlings in our lives, the ones we nurture, the ones we champion, the ones we hope to be.

This whole idea, “May We Be Them, May We Raise Them,” has been buzzing around in my head a lot lately. It’s not just about actual children, though, is it? Of course, that’s a huge part of it. The sheer, mind-boggling responsibility and joy of shaping another human being. But it’s bigger than that. It’s about the potential we see in the world, in each other, and the active role we play in bringing that potential to life.

Think about it. Who are "Them"? They are the people who embody the qualities we admire. The ones who are fiercely kind, who stand up for what's right even when it's unpopular, who possess a quiet wisdom or an infectious zest for life. They're the innovators, the artists, the healers, the problem-solvers. They are the ones who leave the world a little brighter than they found it. We look at them and think, "Wow, I wish I could be more like that." Or maybe, "I wish the world had more of that."

And then there's the "May We Raise Them" part. This is where the active engagement comes in. It’s not enough to just admire from afar, is it? We have a role to play in cultivating those qualities, in fostering that potential, not just in ourselves, but in others. It’s about creating the environment, offering the guidance, and providing the support that allows those seedlings to grow strong.

Let’s be honest, though. Raising anything, whether it’s a child, a new idea, a community project, or even our own character, is hard. It’s messy. It’s filled with sleepless nights (metaphorical or literal!), unexpected challenges, and moments of doubt where you question everything. You know that feeling, right? When you’re in the thick of it, and it feels like you’re wading through mud, and the finish line is nowhere in sight?

But that’s where the magic happens too. It’s in the struggle, in the perseverance, in the tiny victories. It’s in the moment a child finally masters a new skill, or when a collaborative project starts to gain momentum, or when you finally understand a complex concept after hours of wrestling with it. Those are the moments that make all the effort worthwhile. They are the blossoms on the branches of our efforts.

I often find myself looking at people who seem to have it all figured out. You know, the ones who effortlessly exude confidence and grace. And I think, "How did they get there?" Was it innate? Or was it a lifetime of conscious effort, of being raised by supportive people, of actively trying to be their best selves?

My guess? It’s a bit of both, with a hefty dose of the latter. No one wakes up a fully formed, remarkable human being. We are all works in progress. And the people who inspire us, the "Them" we aspire to be, have likely had their own journey of being "raised" – by mentors, by parents, by experiences, and crucially, by their own inner drive to become something more.

So, how do we go about this “raising” business? It’s not about dictating or controlling, is it? That would be like trying to force a rosebush to grow tomatoes. It just doesn’t work. It’s about understanding the inherent nature of what we’re nurturing and providing the right conditions for its specific growth.

For children, this means offering love, security, and a safe space to explore and make mistakes. It means teaching them values, not just through words, but through our actions. It means encouraging their curiosity, their creativity, their empathy. It’s about equipping them with the tools they need to navigate the world, and then giving them the freedom to use those tools.

But it’s not just for the little ones, is it? We can also be the "raisers" for our peers, for our colleagues, for our communities. Think about a new employee joining your team. They might be talented, but they're also learning the ropes, finding their place. How you welcome them, how you support them, can make all the difference. Are you building them up? Are you helping them to be the best version of themselves within that context?

Or consider a neighborhood initiative. A group of people coming together to clean up a local park or start a community garden. The success of that endeavor often hinges on how well the organizers "raise" participation, how they foster a sense of shared ownership and enthusiasm. It’s about creating a fertile ground for collective action.

And what about ourselves? This is the part that often gets overlooked. We are also capable of being both "Them" and being "raised." We can aspire to be the person who is more patient, more resilient, more knowledgeable. And we can actively work on that. We can seek out mentors, read books, take courses, practice mindfulness, engage in challenging activities. We can, in essence, raise ourselves into the people we want to become.

It’s a continuous cycle, isn’t it? We see the potential in others, we strive to embody those qualities ourselves, and then we actively contribute to creating an environment where that potential can flourish in others. It’s a beautiful, intricate dance of inspiration and action.

Sometimes, I wonder if we’re not all just constantly striving to be a better version of ourselves, and in doing so, we become the "Them" for someone else. It’s a comforting thought, isn't it? That even in our own struggles and imperfections, we might be quietly inspiring someone else to keep going, to aim higher, to be a little bit braver.

The "May We Be Them" part is about aspiration. It's about looking at the world and identifying the virtues, the strengths, the positive influences that we want to see more of. It's about saying, "Yes, that. That’s what I want to contribute. That’s the kind of energy I want to bring into the world." It’s about setting a North Star for our personal growth.

And the "May We Raise Them" part is the actionable strategy. It’s the planting, the watering, the weeding. It’s the patient guidance, the gentle encouragement, the unwavering belief. It's the understanding that growth takes time, effort, and the right environment. It’s about being the soil, the sunlight, and the rain for the seedlings around us.

Let’s think about the impact of this. Imagine a world where more people actively strive to embody positive qualities and actively contribute to the growth of those qualities in others. It sounds utopian, I know. But even a small shift in focus, a conscious effort to be a little more like "Them" and to help others "be raised" into their best selves, can have a ripple effect.

It’s about fostering a culture of growth, of support, of mutual upliftment. It’s about moving away from a mindset of scarcity and competition, and towards one of abundance and collaboration. Because when we help others to grow, we, in turn, are often inspired and strengthened in our own journeys.

The irony, of course, is that in trying to be "Them," we often find ourselves in the position of raising others. The person who learns to be incredibly patient might then become a mentor for someone struggling with impatience. The artist who hones their craft might then teach others their techniques. The leader who cultivates resilience might inspire their team to weather tough times.

It’s a beautiful reciprocity. We look up to the stars, and then, in our own way, we become stars for others to navigate by. It’s a constant passing of the torch, a continuous blooming and seeding.

So, next time you see a struggling seedling, whether it's a person, an idea, or a personal goal, remember Mrs. Gable’s garden. Remember the potential that lies within. And ask yourself: “Can I be a part of helping this grow? Can I embody the qualities that would foster its success? Can I, in some small way, help to raise this?”

It’s a question worth pondering, isn’t it? Because if we all strive to be the best version of ourselves, and if we all commit to nurturing that potential in others, then maybe, just maybe, we can all contribute to a world where those tiny seedlings don’t just push through, but truly thrive.

And who knows? Maybe one day, someone will look at us, at the garden we’ve helped to cultivate, and think, "Wow, I wish I could be more like them." And then, the cycle continues. Isn't that a beautiful thought to carry with us?