LIFE INSPIRATION
An eagle advised a woman on the best way to raise children.
“Are you okay, human mother?” the eagle asked.
The woman, surprised, stared at it.
“I’m scared. My baby is about to be born, and I have so many doubts. I want to give him the best, I want his life to be easy and beautiful, but how will I know if I’m raising him right?”
The eagle observed the woman and perched near her.
“Raising a child isn’t easy. It’s not about making everything comfortable. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. When my eaglets are born, the nest is full of feathers and soft grass—they have a place where they can rest, where they feel safe. But when the time comes for them to learn to fend for themselves, I take all that away. I leave only the thorns.”
The woman frowned, confused.
“Thorns? Why make it so hard?”
The eagle looked at her seriously.
“Because thorns cause discomfort. And that discomfort is necessary. They don’t stay there waiting for everything to be handed to them. The thorns force them to seek a better place, to grow. Comfort doesn’t teach them anything.”
The woman pondered the eagle’s words but still had doubts.
“And what do you do when they fall?” she asked, intrigued.
The eagle replied.
“I throw them into the air. At first, they fall because the wind overpowers them, but I catch them. I lift them with my talons and throw them again. Over and over, until they learn to fly on their own. And do you know what I do next? I let them go. I don’t help them anymore."
The woman looked at her, wide-eyed, not fully understanding.
“I don’t enable dependency,” the eagle continued. “My children must learn to fly, must learn to be strong on their own. Life isn’t about keeping them in a soft, safe nest all the time. If I overprotect them, if I keep them in my nest forever, I won’t be teaching them anything. They need to find their own way, and I know they will.”
The woman, gazing at the eagle, took a deep breath.
“So, I should let my child suffer a little?” she said, a bit fearful.
The eagle nodded.
“It’s not suffering. It’s learning. And though it may hurt you, human mother, the best thing you can do is teach him to be strong. Don’t hold him back, don’t coddle him all the time. Make him fly.”
The woman nodded, caressed her belly, looked at the eagle for a long moment, and then, with a smile, bid the bird farewell.
“Thank you, mother eagle,” she whispered as she walked away. “Your advice is invaluable.”
The woman continued on her path, determined to be the mother her child needed: firm, brave, a mother who would teach him to fly.
If you want your child to soar high… don’t do everything for him. Don’t keep him in a nest of comfort. Eagles push their young out of the nest, let them face the thorns, because they know that’s the only way they’ll learn to fly.
Don’t be afraid to see them fall. You, like the eagle, will be there to lift them up, but don’t keep them under your wing forever. Let them face the wind. Let them learn to be strong. True love isn’t protecting them from everything—it’s teaching them to fly, even if it means letting them fall. Let them find their way, even if they stumble along the process.
LIFE INSPIRATION
An eagle advised a woman on the best way to raise children.
“Are you okay, human mother?” the eagle asked.
The woman, surprised, stared at it.
“I’m scared. My baby is about to be born, and I have so many doubts. I want to give him the best, I want his life to be easy and beautiful, but how will I know if I’m raising him right?”
The eagle observed the woman and perched near her.
“Raising a child isn’t easy. It’s not about making everything comfortable. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. When my eaglets are born, the nest is full of feathers and soft grass—they have a place where they can rest, where they feel safe. But when the time comes for them to learn to fend for themselves, I take all that away. I leave only the thorns.”
The woman frowned, confused.
“Thorns? Why make it so hard?”
The eagle looked at her seriously.
“Because thorns cause discomfort. And that discomfort is necessary. They don’t stay there waiting for everything to be handed to them. The thorns force them to seek a better place, to grow. Comfort doesn’t teach them anything.”
The woman pondered the eagle’s words but still had doubts.
“And what do you do when they fall?” she asked, intrigued.
The eagle replied.
“I throw them into the air. At first, they fall because the wind overpowers them, but I catch them. I lift them with my talons and throw them again. Over and over, until they learn to fly on their own. And do you know what I do next? I let them go. I don’t help them anymore."
The woman looked at her, wide-eyed, not fully understanding.
“I don’t enable dependency,” the eagle continued. “My children must learn to fly, must learn to be strong on their own. Life isn’t about keeping them in a soft, safe nest all the time. If I overprotect them, if I keep them in my nest forever, I won’t be teaching them anything. They need to find their own way, and I know they will.”
The woman, gazing at the eagle, took a deep breath.
“So, I should let my child suffer a little?” she said, a bit fearful.
The eagle nodded.
“It’s not suffering. It’s learning. And though it may hurt you, human mother, the best thing you can do is teach him to be strong. Don’t hold him back, don’t coddle him all the time. Make him fly.”
The woman nodded, caressed her belly, looked at the eagle for a long moment, and then, with a smile, bid the bird farewell.
“Thank you, mother eagle,” she whispered as she walked away. “Your advice is invaluable.”
The woman continued on her path, determined to be the mother her child needed: firm, brave, a mother who would teach him to fly.
If you want your child to soar high… don’t do everything for him. Don’t keep him in a nest of comfort. Eagles push their young out of the nest, let them face the thorns, because they know that’s the only way they’ll learn to fly.
Don’t be afraid to see them fall. You, like the eagle, will be there to lift them up, but don’t keep them under your wing forever. Let them face the wind. Let them learn to be strong. True love isn’t protecting them from everything—it’s teaching them to fly, even if it means letting them fall. Let them find their way, even if they stumble along the process.
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