The Call to Parenthood

The gift of parenthood is truly divine. Various spiritual teachers and masters have written that there is no greater service than to raise and guide a child’s footstep toward God. What greater gift can we possibly give the world than to give it a child who is balanced physically and emotionally and has learned attunement to the Light — thus helping to raise the vibrations of the entire planet? The responsibility and joy in this type of service is awesome. However, for many women and men, the task of accepting this service is at times rather difficult.

I have been a mother for over twenty years. As I gaze at our vivacious twenty-year-old daughter, Rami, I am grateful for how much she has opened my heart to God and my spiritual path. As I watch our beautiful fourteen-year-old daughter bloom into womanhood, I am struck by how much she has taught me about knowing and loving myself. As our energetic six-year-old son, John-Nuriel, comes bouncing into the room, I am thankful for the joy and strength that has come into my life through mothering him.

Parenting is the greatest and most fulfilling adventure my husband Barry and I have taken. Our three children bless us every day. After twenty years of parenting, we know, without a doubt, that the love and time we give to our children is a great service we are giving to the planet. We sense the gifts our children will be giving to humanity, and we rejoice in the privilege to nurture and encourage these gifts to come forth. Part of our purpose in coming to earth is to help them fulfill their own purpose. We have joyfully made the decision to be home and present for our children as much as possible.

This dedication to parenting, which seems easier now, was a struggle to obtain in the beginning. Some women seem to flow quite naturally into motherhood. There seems to be little struggle. They seem to accept all the changes beautifully. For myself, and I believe for most women, there is an initiation that prepares the way for motherhood.

When I entered college in 1964, I knew I would dedicate my life to children. I had always felt a deep attunement to them. My nursing and graduate education strongly emphasized this. I was still simple and just wanted to help children be themselves. However, as I gained experience, my jobs became more and more prestigious. I began to enjoy a feeling of importance which subtly started taking over my simple ideals of helping children. At one point I was in charge of a program for emotionally disturbed children and had great responsibility with 30 staff members under my direction. My ego was feeling quite important and, before I knew it, my career was of paramount interest. I began looking ahead to greater and greater advancement in position, rather than greater opportunities for serving children.

Fortunately for me, a hidden blessing came in the form of an unexpected move to Oregon, where Barry could go on to psychiatric residency training. There, Barry worked fifty to eighty hours a week at the hospital. Alone in a small house in the Oregon woods, I gradually grew to see just how far away I had strayed from my original goal. Self-importance had taken priority over true service.
When we left Oregon, Barry and I began a spiritual journey which lasted two years. We traveled all over and studied with various spiritual teachers. We then moved to Santa Cruz where we began our joint practice in counseling and became pregnant with our first child. I loved every minute of the counseling work and at times even forgot that a baby might bring changes in my life. Whenever I would think about the possible changes I’d get a little panicky, and then just decide I’d hire baby-sitters right away. Self-importance had crept in again and I was failing to see the service that God was intending for me to do.

The joy and bliss of Rami’s coming faded slowly after about one month, and I was faced with the day-to-day care. I worked full time right up until six hours before labor started, and I tried to go back to work 14 days later. However, it became increasingly clear that I had to give up work. Rami’s sensitivity toward others and her environment was extreme. If someone expressed the slightest negativity, Rami would cry. If we took her someplace and the vibrations weren’t peaceful, she would scream in agony until we brought her home. Barry tried watching her while I saw people in counseling.
However, Rami would sense other people’s energy around me and scream, and be unable to nurse. It became apparent that I had to give up my work altogether for a while and devote myself totally to surrounding Rami with a peaceful, loving environment.

At first my ego screamed and cried for deliverance. There was no feeling of importance or recognition from others, just the simple day-to-day tasks of caring for an infant. In my heart I knew I was doing what God wanted of me. Yet the voice of my heart was still soft in comparison to the screams of my mind. Week after week, month after month, however, my heart grew stronger, and the demands of my mind lessened. Caring for Rami was teaching me the way of love. I was learning to truly give. I was just beginning to understand what it means to be a servant of God, asking only to do the highest will.

One morning when Rami was six months old, I awakened with a sense of perfect fulfillment and joy. The day that stretched before me was the same as any other: love and care of Rami. Barry was scheduled to see six persons, all of whom were my favorites when we were counseling together. As I gazed at the schedule I waited for that usual pang of jealousy I had felt upon seeing Barry go off to do what I thought was “more important” work. Instead, that feeling had been replaced by gratitude to be able to be with Rami.

As I was nursing her later in the day, my heart felt overwhelmed with love. Suddenly a Presence and soft light filled the room. I felt inside that this was what God was wanting me to do right now with my life. A voice seemed to speak inside me saying, “There is no greater service you can be doing right now than loving and caring for your child.” Then, in affirmation of what had been said within, I heard a faint but distinct sound of angels singing. I had only heard this sound once before, when Rami was born. No amount of career importance or worldly recognition could have equaled that moment. I knew the fulfillment and joy that comes from doing God’s will.

Scroll to Top