They are not yours to mould.
They are not yours to fix.
They are not blank slates, waiting for you to write their future.
They are their own person—
They have their own minds.
Their own dreams.
Their own compass.
You are not their sculptor.
You are their shepherd.
And the role of a shepherd is not to decide the destination,
But to guard the journey.
To walk beside.
To guide, not drag.
To protect, not possess.
You may plant seeds of wisdom,
But the soil is theirs.
You may shine a light,
But the path they choose will not always be the one you expect.
Let it be.
Let them surprise you.
Do not hand them your fear and call it foresight.
Do not give them your regrets and call it tradition.
Your job is not to shape them in your image. But to create the space where they can become more fully themselves.
Give them roots—yes.
Teach them integrity, kindness, resilience.
But do not forget their wings.
Let them fall.
Let them question.
Let them fly where you’ve never flown.
You may not always understand them.
You may not always agree.
But if they feel safe to tell you the truth—
You are doing it right.
And one day, when they look back,
They will not thank you for control.
They will thank you for trust.
For seeing them.
For letting go when it mattered most.
Moral:
You were never meant to write their story.
You were meant to walk beside them
While they learn to hold the pen
And write something the world has never seen.
