The Dreams We Pass On
A Reflection on Parenting, Hope, and Letting Our Children Choose Their Own Path
It is Sunday morning, and as we make our familiar summer journey from London to Mississauga, I glance at the two people sitting beside me: my husband, eager to step onto the soccer field once again, and our almost two-year-old son, clutching a tiny football with the same excitement. As I watch them, I cannot help but wonder: am I witnessing a father’s dream being passed on to his son or the beginning of a passion that belongs entirely to him?
For my husband, soccer is more than a sport; it is where he feels most alive. From an early age, football shaped his childhood. Saturdays were not reserved for school but for tournaments, where every match was another opportunity to do what he loved most. Even today, his parents, now in their late seventies, speak proudly of the goals he scored, the victories he brought to his team, and the recognition he earned in his hometown. Their stories are often accompanied by a quiet wish that perhaps their grandson might one day accomplish what their son could not. Old newspaper articles celebrating his performances and photographs of a young boy with a football at his feet still fill family albums. They remind us that football was never just a pastime; it was a dream. However, for reasons beyond his control, that dream never became a professional career, and life eventually led him in a different direction. From Palestine to Germany and then to a new life in Canada, the dream itself never disappeared. It simply evolved.
Today, at forty-four, he still looks forward to every Sunday match with the same enthusiasm, not because he expects a professional career, but because stepping onto the pitch reconnects him with a part of himself that time never erased. When the opportunity arose to enroll our toddler in a soccer program, what seemed like a simple parenting decision gradually turned into something much deeper. It sparked conversations that many families may quietly have but rarely voice. Were we simply encouraging our son’s growing interest, or were we, perhaps unknowingly, passing on a dream that had never truly left us?
Research suggests that parents inevitably shape their children’s identities, but the manner in which they do so matters. Albert Bandura’s social learning theory proposes that children learn by observing significant adults (Bandura, 1977), making parents their earliest role models. This influence can be profoundly positive, introducing children to interests, values, and opportunities they might never have discovered on their own. However, psychologists also caution against vicarious living through children. Brummelman et al. found that parents with unfulfilled ambitions may unconsciously encourage their children to pursue those same dreams, particularly when they view their children as extensions of themselves (Brummelman et al., 2013). Similarly, research on parental psychological control by Soenens and Vansteenkiste suggests that when parental expectations limit a child’s autonomy, they can hinder authentic identity development (Soenens & Vansteenkiste, 2010). The distinction, then, is not whether parents influence their children; they inevitably do, but whether that influence leaves room for children to discover who they are for themselves.
While psychology helps explain how parents shape their children’s identities, my husband and I found ourselves asking a different question: What guidance does our faith offer? As a Muslim family, our understanding of parenthood extends beyond psychological theories to the belief that children are an amanah (trust) from Allah rather than an extension of ourselves. A trust is nurtured, protected, and guided, but never possessed. At the same time, both psychology and lived experience remind us that parents are a child’s first and most influential role models. By introducing children to sports, arts, sciences, or other meaningful pursuits, parents open doors they might never have discovered on their own. These early experiences can nurture confidence, reveal hidden talents, and lay the foundation for lifelong passions and success. In this sense, passing on a passion is not an act of control but an act of love, provided children remain free to embrace it, reshape it, or walk away from it. This perspective invites parents to distinguish between cultivating a child’s God-given talents and directing those talents toward fulfilling their own aspirations.
Islam encourages parents to provide guidance, opportunities, and encouragement while recognizing that every child is a unique soul with a purpose known only to Allah. Our responsibility is not to determine our children’s destination but to equip them with faith, character, and confidence as they seek the path Allah has prepared for them. Love, in this sense, is measured not by how closely a child follows our dreams but by how faithfully we support them in discovering their own.
Perhaps one day our son will continue chasing the same football as his father. Or perhaps another passion will capture his heart instead. Either way, our greatest hope, as parents and grandparents, is to see him flourish on whatever path he chooses. Ultimately, the dreams we pass on should never become a burden our children are expected to carry. Instead, they should be an invitation to discover who they are, with the freedom to embrace those dreams or gently leave them behind.
References
- Bandura, A. (1977). Social learning theory. Prentice Hall.
- Brummelman, E., Thomaes, S., Slagt, M., Overbeek, G., Orobio de Castro, B., & Bushman, B. J. (2013). My child redeems my broken dreams: On parents transferring their unfulfilled ambitions onto their child. PLoS ONE, 8(6), e65360. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0065360
- Soenens, B., & Vansteenkiste, M. (2010). A theoretical upgrade of the concept of parental psychological control: Proposing new insights based on self-determination theory. Developmental Review, 30(1), 74–99. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.dr.2009.11.001