To My Grown-Up Son

My young son Ammon— interested in snails, plants and everything else!

I am still pondering on the thought of becoming the woman I wanted to be. My goal has always been to be a good, loving, caring mother. I think I have been, but we all remember the things we could have done better.

Once many years ago, when I was very ill for a few weeks, I began to see life through my children's eyes. Unable to do much more than lay in bed, or on the couch, the cares of adult life began to fall from me, and I could see how very busy and occupied we appear to our little ones. All I wanted to do was play with my son Ammon and his toys. I could suddenly see the very great value in one-on-one time with a child, doing what he enjoyed. I was not well enough to play, but that was what I truly yearned to do.

Children need us—they need our attentive self, our listening self. They need us to slow down and see life through their eyes once in awhile. And to be playful and move slower. That is why my philosophy of education is based on making it fun and interesting for kids. As soon as I got well enough, we got out Ammon's legos and created things together. I laid on the floor and played with him. We constructed a lego cable car that traversed the room on a cord. Play is always much more entrancing when a parent joins in! I wished that I could always keep that viewpoint, but when I got completely well, the load of adult duties was waiting and my hard-earned perspective gradually waned.

If you are a mother of young children, and want to make a most important resolution this year, consider this one from another of my favorite poems:

To My Grown-Up Son

My hands were busy through the day,
I didn't have much time to play

The little games you asked me to.
I didn't have much time for you.

I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook,
But when you'd bring your picture book

And ask me, please, to share your fun,
I'd say, "A little later, Son."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night,
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,

Then tiptoe softly to the door.
I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short, and years rush past,
A little boy grows up so fast.

No longer is he at your side.
His precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,
There are no children's games to play,

No good-night kiss, no prayers to hear.
That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now lie still
The days are long and hard to fill.

I wish I might go back and do
The little things you asked me to.

—Alice E. Chase

My grown son Ammon with the banana tree he is growing indoors!

The Woman I Wanted to Be

My sister told me about a sermon she heard on the topic of New Year's goals at an inter-faith meeting. A rabbi said that his resolution is to ask himself, every day, the same question that the passenger on the airplane that landed safely in the Hudson River asked. As the aircraft was about to plunge into the river below, he asked himself, "Am I the man I wanted to be?" So, the rabbi suggested that our resolution might be to ask ourselves that question as we start each day.

Great food for thought! Am I the woman I wanted to be? I had so many hopes/dreams when I was younger. We are just as sure as can be that we will, with all due respect, do things differently and better than our mothers did. I can remember having a goal as a young bride to wear flowers in my hair every day . . . ah, the lovely ideas of youth! Thankfully we gain more wisdom as we age. Some of our goals were fair to abandon as they were foolish or impractical, but some are still good, although forgotten, and should be resurrected.

The girl I used to be, and the goals I had, make me remember this favorite poem:

Lest We Forget

She came tonight as I sat alone
The girl that I used to be. . .
And she gazed at me with her earnest eye
And questioned reproachfully:

"Have you forgotten the many plans
And hopes that I had for you?
The great career, the splendid fame
All the wonderful things to do?"

"Where is the mansion of stately height
With all of its gardens rare?
The silken robes that I dreamed for you
And the jewels in your hair?"

And as she spoke, I was very sad,
For I wanted her pleased with me . . .
This slender girl from the shadowy past
The girl that I used to be.

So gently arising, I took her hand,
And guided her up the stair
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay
So innocent, sweet and fair.

And I told her that these are my only gems,
And precious they are to me,
That silken robe is my motherhood
Of costly simplicity.

And my mansion of stately height is love,
And the only career I know
Is serving each day in these sheltering walls
For the dear ones who come and go.

And as I spoke to my shadowy guest,
She smiled through her tears at me,
And I saw that the woman that I am now
Pleased the girl that I used to be.

—Anonymous

Nearer My God to Thee—through Mommyhood

Studying Martin Luther's life led my daughter Emily (19) to declare that she wanted to do something important with her life, to change the world, to make a difference! She didn't want to live out her day-to-day life doing small things. Which caused tears to spring to my eyes, and a passionate sermon on the merits of mommyhood to form on my lips . . . ending with "the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world!".

Oh, to be a mother! Is there anything closer to God? Is there any job description that requires you to walk in the Savior's footsteps more closely? To love, lift up, nourish, heal, mourn with, comfort, rejoice with, to be there for. To be there for. Just like God, in so many ways.

The mommy-child bond is like no other on earth. We are genetically linked, and spiritually tied by an invisible umbilical cord that never separates. In no other relationship is there such a connection. The child who was within us becomes the friend, comrade and beloved all throughout life.

I was surprised at this powerful link, and at myself when I had my 6th child. Although I had lived thousands of miles away from my mother for years and years of married life, when the labor got very intense and things looked like they may be going awry, I found myself unconsciously and instinctively cry out, "Mom!". It shocked me to hear myself—and yet why should it? No one is more connected at a core level, no one more dependable, more caring all throughout life, and especially in time of trouble, than Mom.

My husband's grandmother described knowing exactly when her son was shot down in World War II half-way around the world. She said she felt it. The umbilical cord is ever present.

I know there are no perfect moms, and I am certainly not one, but my job description calls me to be. It calls me to step up daily and be less self-focused, more inclined to the good of another, less proud, more in tune, less fussy, more content. It causes us to stretch ourselves and live the high road. I know some do not have that wonderful mother, or even a working relationship with their mom, but that doesn't keep us, ourselves, from trying to be that angel-person for our own children!

Emily asked me to drive her to work, apologizing for the interruption. And once again I thought about life as a mother. Interruption? What's that? It seems that every day, all day long, is a sort of an interruption when you are raising kids. Not a negative thing, just a realization that what you are doing at the moment is not as important as nurturing and loving the children, and serving them, and teaching them, and modeling Christ-like living in the day-to-day for them. So they will know first-hand how to live! And the little things you do all day long, the in-and-outs of daily life, are the substance of greatness.

Mommyhood. It is something very powerful and sacred. To be there for. To be there for. Nothing we could ever do on this earth could compare to the noble influence we create by being a good and present mother. That impact will be felt generation after generation after generation . . . long after we are gone.

Do something important to change the world! Be a good mommy.