Roots and Wings: The Gift of Generations

We will not hide them from their children,

but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord,

and His might, and the wonders that He has done…

that the next generation might know them,

the children yet unborn,

and arise and tell them to their children. (Ps. 78:4-6)

Dearest Daughters,

Every child is given two gifts: roots to hold them, and wings to carry them. But the wings only grow strong when the roots run deep.

I cannot impress upon you strongly enough how important intergenerational connectedness is, the connection of parents to children, children to parents, and grandparents to grandchildren. As much as we’re able to tie the generations together, we inherit the love, the wisdom, the experience, the stories, and even the joy of those who came before us. It’s a kind of birthright, passed down, shaping who we are long before we even realize it.

In our society today, as people marry later and later in life, I see a troubling pattern emerging. More and more children will grow up without truly knowing their grandparents. If a generation waits until nearly forty to marry and have children, it only takes two such generations for grandchildren to be born to eighty-year-old grandparents. Much of the time that could have been spent weaving those relationships together is simply gone. The thread that was meant to bind three generations begins to fray, and finally is irreplaceably is lost.

I feel, more and more as the years go on, what a privilege it has been to live differently. As you know, I live within sight of two of you married children, with the third just two miles up the road. For years now, I’ve lived a short walk through the cedar woods to my own mother, and also within walking distance of her parents until they passed last year. That kind of closeness has shaped our lives in ways both seen and unseen. It has meant shared meals, quick visits, borrowed tools, stories told and retold, tips and recipes passed along, children running freely between homes, and a constant reinforcement that we belong to one another.

I truly believe this kind of interconnectedness is vital not only to family life, but to sustainable communities, to enduring love, and to the passing on of what matters most.

Yesterday, as I was reading with your little brother Ari, I came across a story that deeply stirred something in me. It was about the Whooping Cranes once found in the tens of thousands across North America, their fluted voices marking the changing of seasons. But by the 1940s, due to hunting, urban expansion, and difficult seasons, their population had dwindled to only fifteen birds.

A small group of people set out to save them. They collected eggs, hatched them in safe environments, and began raising a new generation. But their goal was not simply to preserve the cranes in captivity; they wanted to see them fly again, and to fill the skies in the fall and return again on the fresh breeze of spring.

The first challenge was that these young cranes, having been hatched by humans, didn’t know how to migrate. They had lost that knowledge. Then someone discovered that Canadian goslings had imprinted to a fisherman in his boat as to a parent figure! There’s very strong imprint instinct among many migratory birds. So with this knowledge, a man then experimented using an ultralight plane and young birds, and, remarkably, they followed! As they grew, they took to the skies behind the plane and were led along a new migration route. Even more remarkable, they returned to their hatching grounds the following year.

It seemed they had found the solution. The cranes could now be taught to migrate, and the population could recover. So they led them on their migration with ultralight planes, and all seemed well—at first.

But after several years, something went wrong. The population not only wasn’t growing; it was dwindling. Though the cranes could fly and migrate, they weren’t raising their young successfully. These birds raised in captivity rarely tended their eggs. They didn’t protect or nurture their offspring and never guarded their young from predators. Of all the cranes raised in captivity and taught to migrate, only ten chicks survived.

In time, the realization came: these cranes had lost their connection to the previous generation. They had learned to migrate, but they had never had the imprint training to learn how to parent. That knowledge had not been passed on through relationship, through example, through presence.

So the effort changed. Eggs were placed with the few remaining, older, wild cranes, and the young birds were raised by those who still carried the instincts and habits of good parenting. And with that restored connection, the cycle of life could continue.

I’ve not yet fully put words to all that I feel in this story, but something in it has spoken deeply to my heart. It’s not enough to teach our children to “fly”—to succeed, to function, to find their way in the world. They must also remain connected to their roots and to those who can show them how—how to live, how to love, how to nurture, how to stand. We, as parents, must do the same. We must cling to those physical or spiritual “parents” who’ve successfully nurtured and protected others, whose relationships have survived.

There’s something about that early “imprinting” in children that is far more powerful than we often realize. In their earliest years, they’re watching, absorbing, modeling. They will take on our habits, our attitudes, our work ethic, our responses to hardship, and our way of loving others. These things are not only or even primarily taught through explicit instruction but are passed on through lived demonstration and close connections.

As you know, your grandparents had an enormous impact on your lives when you were young, and they continue to shape you even now. Helen, besides regular visits, you exchanged letters with your grandmother every weak through your formative years. I see that same blessing of interaction continuing all the way down to Ari. He spends part of each week with each of his grandparents. He’s being formed in ways that will bear fruit for the rest of his life.

These relationships don’t happen by accident. They must be cultivated. They must be protected. They must be valued highly enough that we make decisions around them.

So my encouragement to you, my daughters, is this: don’t lose sight of the generations, and don’t make light of “imprint training.” Draw near to the generations that went before you. Honor them. Make space for them in your daily lives. And as you build your own families, think not only about what you’re creating in your own home, but how it connects to what came before—and what will come after.

May God help us all to raise children who can both soar and sustain, who are not only capable in the world, but deeply rooted in a culture of love that will endure.

With all my love,

Mom