The Ambition to Be Ourselves

A few years ago, my husband and I took our then 3-year-old son to a wedding. It was a casual affair, and Lucas worked on a drawing while people gathered. A young man passed by, admiring his creation and focus, and asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.

Lucas, saying nothing, continued to sketch.

“That’s really very good. Clearly, you’re an artist.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sure you are! Look at how beautiful that is. Maybe that’s what you’ll be when you get older?”

Again, silence.

The man turned to us, with a look on his face suggesting concern about our son’s apparent lack of self-esteem. He seemed poised to speak again when Lucas put down his pencil, looked right at him, and said: “I’m not an artist. I’m Lucas.”

* * *

A couple of weeks ago, our son—now almost 7—was chatting with his grandmother about Elon Musk and SpaceX’s recent launch of its Dragon spacecraft to the International Space Station. Hearing his excitement, my mother-in-law said, “Maybe you’ll want to be an astronaut when you grow up?”

“No, I just want to be me.”

* * *

My husband and I used to try to imagine what our son would eventually look like, which, as every parent knows, is an impossible task. Yet going through his baby pictures now, it seems obvious that Lucas has always been becoming who he is today.

This is true beyond his appearance. Lucas really is, and has always been, content to be himself. He does many things and enjoys many things. He’s curious and cares about many things. Yet always as himself… complete just as he is, extending into the world as a matter of interest and choice.

As someone who, from a very early age, always felt that I had something to prove—something I needed to become and be in order to be OK—observing my son has been an eye-opening experience. It never occurred to me back then that I was enough as I was, and it took me many years to extricate myself from a Self I’d created for validation, praise, and a sense of worth.

How refreshing that Lucas may be spared some of that. That he seems to have tapped into a crucial piece of life’s wisdom so early in his own: that we have nothing to prove and never did. That we have only, in this and every moment, to live.

How wonderful, too, as parents, that John and I have been taught by our son not to intentionally or otherwise turn his pleasure into pressure.

* * *

Recently, Lucas and I went for a walk after three days of rain. He was so excited to bring along his beloved camera to document the world waking up to a dry dawn.

Source: Jennifer Hamady

As we neared home, he stopped to show me a picture of a cardinal he was particularly proud of. It was an extraordinary shot, and before I thought about it, I heard myself say: “Lucas, you really are a wonderful photographer.”

And then, a beat later: “Actually, you’re a wonderful Lucas… and you take really beautiful pictures.”

He smiled, put his camera in his pocket, and took my hand. And we walked home, both feeling warm in the morning sun, in being together, and in being ourselves.