Various statistics have been reported, but only about 600 reach the pinnacle each year. I bet many people who stand at the bottom or see it from a distance say, “Shoot, why would anyone do that? It is impossible.” These superhero parents may look bedraggled, cold, frostbitten, and half-dead, but they are doing this just for a chance (an unlikely one) that they will summit this mountain eventually. I just can’t think of anything braver than this act of love for their child. I can’t think of any cause more noble than believing in your kid, despite all odds being against you. There is very little allure at undergoing such a task. These parents believe that their children have inherent value, not because they are doing something right, but because they are theirs. Their summit may mean that their child lives successfully in a group home one day. It may mean that their adult children learn to live peacefully at home. It may mean that their child is one day able to have a job. It may just mean that their child is alive at 35. Their summit brings no round of applause, no bragging rights, and no rest. Once you reach the summit of Everest, the urgency to make it down alive continues. There is no rest for these parents.
Really amazing parents can have really hard kids. Really hard kids are also really amazing kids. You can’t judge a parent based on how far he/she has climbed up the mountain. Some parents will never summit their mountain, and yet they have put forth more effort than some people can fathom. They are the ponderous superheroes with unremarkable powers but remarkable love for their child. Their powers are shown in simple acts of love – a cuddle on the couch after enduring hours of rage, the bravery of laughter after hearing their child got kicked out of yet another school, reaching for their spouse when shame is threatening to close in around them. Simple acts on Everest, where people are left frozen in time, show astonishing love and generosity.