It's coming along nicely, the afghan I'm crocheting; it's starting to assume its full shape and texture. I think it's going to be quite handsome. It's for the infant daughter of some friends, a little girl whose first birthday is upcoming next month. I haven't met her yet, but then, neither have they: she is in China, in a foster home. It's been a long wait for the paperwork to be completed, but now it's done. She is theirs and they are hers, and in June, they will fly to China and bring her home. Until then, we look at her photographs, and her name is up on their refrigerator in magnetic letters. And the afghan grows, one square after another.

I was rejoicing in all this, not just because there's going to be another kid in the neighbourhood, but because I know her parents. And therefore I know that a small girl is going to be brought up the way all children should be, which is a matter for joyfulness.

She will know she is loved because she'll not only hear the words, but she'll see that love shown in the way she's treated, in large ways and small. That love will be consistent, not turned on and off depending on which way the wind's blowing. And it will be expressed in attentiveness. Her parents will be willing to listen to her, to take her concerns seriously. They will have time for her, but more, they will be truly present for her during their time together. There is no gift greater than true attention, especially for a small person.

She will learn to trust because her parents will be honest with her; she will always know where she stands with them. They will be honest, too, when they don't know the answers, and they will have the confidence to admit to her when they've made mistakes. And she will be able to forgive them for that, because they will have shown her that they forgive her when she makes mistakes, instead of bringing her mistakes up over and over again. So she too will be able to be honest.

She won't be over-indulged or raised without rules: she will hear that most excellent, necessary, refreshingly salty word "no". But she will hear it said with love by parents who are willing to reconsider decisions when that's the right thing to do and who will listen to her make a case for "yes", when it matters. She will be raised with structure and with consistency, but without rigidity. Her parents know that rigid authoritarianism, like extreme laxity, is really just laziness. Both avoid the hard work of loving discernment: easier not to act or to think at all than to act thoughtfully... If she needs to be punished, the punishment will be fair and consistent, a true corrective--not vindictive, not spirit-breaking or crazy-making, and not for the sake of establishing "who's boss".

When life hurts her--because life will inevitably be full of elbows and banging doors--her parents will take her suffering seriously, helping her learn to deal with it. They will not tell her it doesn't hurt, nor that she's a wuss for crying; but neither will they wrap her in cotton-wool, for one of our hardest and most important jobs as parents is to help kids learn to cope with reality. And that means learning to cope with pain with maturity. They will help her work through the times when hurt and anger are the truest emotions and must be dealt with before she can forgive and let go. But they will not encourage her to hang onto a good grudge by indulging it, nor to wallow in resentful self-pity. They will teach her to have tenderness for others and a good tough hide of her own.

In her home, people do not shout or sulk or explode in violence or dredge up resentments over and over again. Nor is it a place where silence cuts like a knife and people find polite ways of sawing each other off at the ankles. And therefore she will know real deep-down safety, the safety of real love, and this knowledge will give her the freedom to take risks, trusting in God and herself. Because of this, she will have real courage, not the fake blowhard bravado which is really the opposite of courage. And therefore lions will lie down peaceably beside her, and scorpions will dance harmlessly in her path, and dragons will nuzzle under her small starfish hand to be patted.

She will know that she's a valuable person, and will therefore take excellent care of herself, because she will have been treated as a real person, even when she's "only" a baby. It's strange, how some parents seem to feel that children are a different species--that they can be treated in ways that their parents would never treat another adult or tolerate for themselves. We don't insist that our dinner guests sit in front of a plate of congealing pot roast for hours if they aren't hungry enough to finish. We don't shrug blandly when our co-workers hit and bully each other, muttering "adults will be adults." We don't rip strips off our friends for not doing it perfectly or lose our tempers and swat their behinds good and hard. But somehow, we think we can do this to children because they're only children, not people. Strange, very strange. But this child needn't fear this sort of treatment. Her parents will treat her with courtesy and consideration, because that's what they're like to everyone.

She will know that she is allowably different from others--that she is truly the only Godbeloved HER in the whole universe, and that these differences of hers are valuable. She won't be forced into some preconceived mould or told that she must be like this or like that. Her parents will watch her traits and talents emerge, and they will lovingly tailor their hopes and expectations of her to fit her cloth. If she's good Harris tweed, they won't insist that she be a ball gown; if she's ivory satin, they won't force her to be an overcoat. They will value her just exactly as she is, not as they might have wanted their daughter to be. But nor will her parents encourage her to believe that she is at the centre of the known universe, a princess whose every whim must be humoured. That's not their style at all.

And finally, she will be free, because much of her parents' work will be in preparing her to be independent. They will hold her lovingly but lightly, and when she wants to get down and explore, they will help her develop as an explorer. They will foster her curiosity and help her build her strengths, and when she's ready, they will let her go, in love and confidence.

She's a lucky little girl, this Anna. I'm looking forward to meeting her and to watching her grow. Meanwhile, I'll get on with the afghan, one square at a time. And as my hook is busy whipping loops with cream-white and varicoloured yarn, I will think back through the years to two small boys, one with grey-green and one with dark-brown eyes, and to times past that I have put away, wrapped safe in my memory, as if in amber.

God bless the children; God help and bless their parents.

(For Ray and Barb)