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4on, they need honesty. Some4mes repair doesn't go how we hoped and we have to let go. There was a 4me when one of my daughters had a painful falling out with a close friend. My first ins4nct as a parent could have been to assign blame, but instead, I chose to pause. Why is this here? What can she learn? We sat together, talking about what she might have done differently, how she could re- lease her hurt, and what forgiveness might look like even if friendship wasn't restored. The other parent, who was also a friend of mine, handled things differently. I felt sad- ness for a while, grieving the connec4on. I had hoped for an honest conversa4on, but realized they were not in the same place. So I, too, had to let go. That was its own lesson for me, and for my daughter. That some4mes love is not about holding on, but about releasing with grace. Every morning, I try to begin with a ritual. Hand on my heart, I set an inten4on for the day. Today, I will listen more. Or, May I be pa4ent with myself and others. Do I live this perfectly? No. Some days I forget, lose my pa4ence, or let stress take over. But even when I stumble, my children see me return to the prac4ce. And that, too, is love showing up again and again. Children are percep4ve beyond measure. They overhear the news, feel tension in our voices, no4ce the heaviness we carry. I have learned not to hide everything, but to meet them with honesty they can hold. When my daughter once asked about a sad story she had heard, I told her the truth, yes, hard things happen in the world, and they hurt. But even in the hardest 4mes, we can choose kindness. Then I asked if she wanted to draw a picture for her classmate who was feeling lonely, her face lit up. That small act gave her a sense of agency, proof that even in a heavy world, we can s4ll bring light. Love also grows in the tradi4ons we cre- ate. When my children were li5le, we o%en shared one thing we were grateful for at dinner. Some4mes it was big, some4mes as simple as warm bread on the table. Over 4me, gra4tude shi%ed the air around us, so%ening even the hardest days. My chil- dren are older now, but I can s4ll see how gra4tude has rooted itself in them. Another prac4ce we cherished was leav- ing notes for one another. I would tuck s4cky notes into lunchboxes, like I love you or have a fun day. One night, my son sur- prised me with a note on my pillow, You're the best mom. I know some4mes you do things for everyone even when you're 4red. These small gestures are the quiet lan- guage of love. Children are our truest mirrors. What they see in us becomes what they reflect back into the world. When they hear us speak with respect, they learn respect. When they see us care for animals, they learn compassion. When they watch us fal- ter and then apologize, they learn humility and repair. Love, in the end, is not some- thing we preach, but something we live. It is found in the ordinary moments, the daily choices, the ways we return to connec4on over and over. Our children do not need perfect parents. They need real ones. And they need us to show them, again and again, that love is always the thread worth following. Our children will one day grow into adults, shaping the future, and carry- ing the hope of a more compassionate world. r 26 HOOK

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