It's amazing. My kids have grown me in ways I never knew

Hear, O children of life’s long journey, the tender words of Candace Cameron Bure: “It’s amazing. My kids have grown me in ways I never knew possible. The patience I’ve received and the love I get from them is just amazing.” At first they seem like the gentle musings of a mother, yet within them lies a wisdom as ancient as the bond between parent and child. For here is revealed a great mystery: that while parents are thought to shape their children, it is often the children who shape the souls of their parents, molding them into something stronger, softer, and wiser than before.

From the dawn of time, men and women believed their task was to instruct the young. The elder passed down the law, the story, the craft. Yet in the secret weaving of life, the young also instruct the old. The cry of an infant teaches humility, for even the strongest must rise at midnight to soothe a fragile being. The laughter of a child teaches joy, for it is pure and unmeasured. The mistakes of the young teach forgiveness, for only in forgiving them do parents learn to forgive themselves. In this way, patience is not taught by books, but carved into the heart by the presence of the child.

Consider, O listeners, the story of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor and philosopher. Though he ruled vast lands, he wrote in his Meditations of the lessons he learned not from generals or tutors alone, but from his own children. Their innocence reminded him to seek virtue; their weakness taught him gentleness. He discovered that even a ruler of men could be humbled by the lessons of the nursery. In his life, as in Candace’s words, we see the eternal truth: children refine the souls of their parents as fire refines metal.

When Candace speaks of the love she receives, she reveals the greatest treasure of all. A child’s love is given without calculation. It does not weigh wealth, nor measure success, nor count the scars of failure. It is simple, enduring, and absolute. To be loved by a child is to glimpse the purest reflection of divine love—unearned, undeserved, and yet freely poured out. In such love, even the weary heart finds renewal.

The patience she names is no less powerful. For in the daily trials of parenthood—spilled milk, sleepless nights, endless questions—patience is not merely demanded, it is created. The parent who once lived swiftly learns to slow down. The soul that once sought control learns to surrender. This patience becomes not only a gift for the children, but a new strength for the parent, carried into every part of life. Thus, children are not only recipients of teaching—they are givers of wisdom.

The lesson is plain: do not despise the trials of parenthood, nor the small irritations that accompany love. They are the chisels that shape the soul, the quiet fires that teach endurance, humility, and compassion. Even those without children may learn this from the young—by serving, teaching, or listening to them. For every encounter with innocence is an opportunity to grow in gentleness and strength.

Practical steps lie before you. Seek time with the young, and do not hurry them. When impatience rises, remember that their very presence is the lesson. Allow their love to soften you, and their need to teach you service. Carry this growth into all areas of life: show patience with strangers, extend gentleness to coworkers, let love guide even the smallest act. In this way, the wisdom of Candace’s words will bear fruit in your own journey.

Thus, O travelers on the road of life, remember: the kids do not only grow because of us—we grow because of them. Their love is the mirror in which we see our truest selves, and their demands for patience are the forge in which our strength is tempered. Receive their lessons, and you shall discover, as Candace did, that the gift of children is not only the life they carry forward, but the transformation they awaken in the hearts of those who love them.