The Lost-Art of Commitment

Today would have been my parents’ 57th wedding anniversary.

They were married in 1969 after meeting while pursuing music degrees at the University of Michigan. Their shared love of music took them through Interlochen Arts Camp, the Aspen Music Festival, and into the early years of their professional careers with the Toledo Symphony Orchestra.

In 1974, they won positions with the National Arts Centre Orchestra and moved to Canada, where they would build a life and family together for the next five decades.

In 2019, we celebrated their 50th anniversary surrounded by family and friends. Looking back now, that gathering feels especially precious. It was right before COVID. Right before my father’s health began its significant decline. Five years before we would eventually lose him from our lives.

Today, as I reflect on their marriage, I find myself thinking about commitment.

Not simply romantic commitment, but commitment to family, to showing up, to staying the course when life becomes difficult.

The world my parents entered as newlyweds feels very different from the one we live in today.

These days, raising a family and remaining committed to that responsibility can sometimes feel like an ancient concept. Family structures have changed dramatically over the past several decades. More children are being raised in single-parent households than ever before, and many parents are carrying the enormous responsibility of raising children largely on their own.

This is not a judgment. It is simply an observation.

I am a single parent myself.

While my sons’ father has remained part of their lives from a distance, living in New York City, I have raised my boys largely on my own.

Let me be clear though: this was never the life I envisioned for myself or for my children.

That decision was made for me, and the shock of finding myself alone, pregnant, with a 12-month-old son to care for, altered the trajectory of my life completely.

I come from a long line of committed families. Loyalty and devotion were not simply values that were spoken about; they were demonstrated every day.

And so when I found myself standing alone with two babies, I made a promise:

I would be there.

I would not allow my children to grow up believing that because they were raised by a single mother, they were somehow less than.

I sacrificed much to honor that commitment. Not because I am extraordinary, but because that is what parents do when they love their children.

The truth, however, is that I could never have done it alone.

My parents, my family, and the generations before me stepped in to help carry what would have otherwise been impossible.

Despite the circumstances, my sons were still raised within the wholeness of family.

Not the traditional family structure many people imagine, but family nonetheless.

✨They were loved.

✨They were supported.

✨They were witnessed.

✨They belonged.

And that matters…in so many ways.

This is not about blaming or shaming anyone. Human beings can only act from the level of awareness, healing, and capacity they possess at the time.

Yet I do believe we have normalized things that should concern us.

We have normalized exhaustion.

We have normalized isolation.

We have normalized raising children without adequate support.

And in many ways, we have normalized the idea that commitment is optional when life becomes difficult.

We often celebrate the strength of single mothers, and rightly so. The sacrifices, resilience, and devotion required to raise children alone are extraordinary.

But perhaps our celebration has sometimes distracted us from a more uncomfortable truth: children were never meant to be raised by one exhausted parent carrying the entire weight of a family alone.

The goal should not be to normalize parental absence. The goal should be to understand the cost of it.

When we look at the statistics surrounding youth incarceration, poverty, addiction, educational outcomes, and mental health challenges, one theme appears again and again: the absence of fathers. Not because mothers are incapable…they are often carrying extraordinary burdens…but because children benefit when the people who created them remain actively engaged in raising them.

The answer is not stronger mothers.

We already have those…

The answer is stronger commitment.

Statistically, fathers are far more likely to become the absent parent following separation. While many fathers remain devoted and actively involved in their children’s lives, there is no question that the larger societal pattern is one in which mothers disproportionately carry the daily responsibility of raising children.

That reality is worth noticing…

Not to shame men.

Not to diminish the fathers who show up every day.

But because if we are going to honestly address the challenges facing our children, we have to be willing to look honestly at the conditions they are growing up in.

Children pay attention to what we normalize.

They learn from what we celebrate.

They inherit the values we embody.

Many Indigenous cultures throughout North America have long embraced what is often called the Seven Generations principle: making decisions today with consideration for how they will affect people seven generations into the future.

Imagine if more of us approached our relationships, our parenting, and our communities through that lens.

Not asking, “What do I want right now?”

But asking, “What legacy am I creating for those who come after me?”

Because family has never simply been about us.

It has always been about those who come next.

I often wonder if part of our struggle stems from how disconnected we have become from communal living.

For most of human history, children were not raised by one or two exhausted adults trying to manage everything themselves.

They were raised by grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, elders, and friends.

There was a village.

There was shared responsibility.

There was support.

Today, many of us live behind closed doors, attempting to meet every need ourselves while wondering why we feel overwhelmed, disconnected, and depleted.

Perhaps the issue is not simply the loss of marriage. Perhaps it is the loss of community. The loss of shared responsibility. The loss of understanding that raising healthy children is not solely the job of parents, it is the responsibility of all of us.

Yet despite these challenges, I remain hopeful.

Because commitment is still available to us.

Every single day.

We can choose it.

We can ask ourselves:

✨What am I committed to?

✨What values am I modeling?

✨What am I building for the next generation?

✨And am I contributing to the strengthening of those commitments, or slowly eroding them?

The answers to those questions matter.

Not just for us…

For our children.

And for their children.

And for the generations who will inherit the world we leave behind.

Today, as I think about my parents and the 57 years they should have been celebrating, I realize their greatest gift was not the music they created.

It was the example they lived.

✨An example of loyalty.

✨Of perseverance.

✨Of family.

✨Of choosing, day after day, to honor the commitments they made.

We may never return to village living. But…

• We can return to a village mindset.

• We can support one another.

• We can stop believing we must carry everything alone.

• We can surround our children with good people who teach them, guide them, and inspire them.

• We can cultivate a sense of honor around commitment, family, and responsibility.

• And we can remember that commitment is not a limitation.

It is one of the greatest gifts we can offer future generations.

That is the legacy my parents left behind.

And it is one worth passing on, one generation to the next. ❤️