Posted on: Sunday, December 5, 2004

Gift of hope tops father's yule wish list for daughter

By Michael DeMattos

Soon, my daughter will be enjoying her eighth Christmas. She is growing up so fast. Sadly, she is growing up in an unstable time. I do my best to protect her from the "news of the day," but it is hard. I know that I am not the first to believe that my time, my era, is the nexus point for future generations, but I cannot help but believe this is so.

In light of current events, it seems trivial to wish that her Christmas list will be complete and fulfilled to her satisfaction, but I do. I hope that I can get her the things that she wants. Our world may be going crazy right before our eyes, but the Christmas gifts ground our household in the normalcy of daily local life.

Still, if I could, I would extend her Christmas wish list, with a few wishes of my own, for now and as she grows older. Each is based in some way on the life I have lived. This is unfair, I know, but I cannot separate my thoughts and feelings from the fabric of my being. The myth of objectivity is exactly that: a myth. My unique take on the world is also my gift to the world, and it may be the only thing of importance that I have to offer.

I hope my daughter realizes that who she is right now is as important, if not more important, than who she will become. Children are told all the time that they are the future. They become commodities that must be kept and held like a certificate of deposit until they reach maturity. How debilitating. They carrying their unique curse into adulthood, waiting to hit the jackpot like a gambler waits bleary-eyed for flaming sevens.

And we wonder why our youth feel disenfranchised.

The children are not lost or confused — we are. How much better would we treat our little ones were they appreciated for who they are right here and now, rather than for what they may become?

I hope my daughter never loses her belief in a higher power, in something greater than herself. But I also hope that she develops a bit of doubt. Without doubt there would be no need to believe. It seems to me that the most important things in life cannot be seen with the eyes, but only with the heart. A pinch of doubt can yield a pound of belief. But that is not the only benefit of doubt. Doubt allows for other possibilities and other truths. It seems that in our complex, ever-changing world, certainty is a luxury that none can afford.

I hope that my daughter trusts in herself and is not slave to the latest market trends or campaigns. All around us, advertisers are telling us what we should wear, what we should eat, what we must own to be cool or sexy. In the end, each marketing campaign is designed for one purpose and one purpose only, to turn a profit. We live in a McWorld, and I do not want a McDaughter. Still, I know that the cards are stacked against her.

I hope that my daughter practices a discipline. I do not care what it is; yoga, kung fu, oil painting, flower arrangement ... it just does not matter. Through practice comes awareness; awareness of the art itself, but more importantly, awareness of self. Then one day when tragedy strikes, for it surely will in this temporal life we live, she will have something to turn to. A discipline opens the person up and lays the heart bare. She will have to confront her strengths and weaknesses and accept her flaws and shortcomings. It has been said that home is where the heart is, but in accepting herself unconditionally, she will find that heart is where the home is.

I hope that my daughter is touched by art. Beauty is the antidote for disenchantment. Now, the artist will tell you that she created her work to satisfy her muse or perhaps to pay the rent. But this is not true. The artist's work is incomplete without an audience. It is in the eye of the beholder that the piece is made whole and complete. In the artful life, each of us serves as witness to the other, and in doing so we make meaningful what would seem to some like a meaningless life.

I remain more hopeful than discontented, but I worry. I like to believe that my worry is a sign of mental health. I've heard it said that anyone living in this day and age should feel a bit depressed. It's appropriate considering the circumstances. Still, I look into the eyes of those around me and I smile.

Deep inside of me, amid the belief and the doubt, is faith. Not a faith in the future, but a faith in the here and now. And right now, she is sitting in the living room reading a book, and the world, her world, is alive and well.

Family therapist Michael C. DeMattos has a master's degree in social work.