Christian marriage,
motherhood, keepers at home, Titus 2, encouragement news letter
Quintessential Motherhood
pamela spurling
January 12, 2007
Good
morning, dear Sister~
Throughout
the week I wondered what the LORD would have me to write for this
week’s letter. And so, in an attempt to prepare a letter yesterday,
I sat down to write. Distractions, buzzers, timers, calls, the
dryer’s beep-beep-beep, and the knocking at the back door…
distractions. And then I thought: distractions? No: life. Life is
what’s happening when we’re waiting and planning for something else
to happen. And then I think on this further and wonder: is this the
story of my motherhood experience? Has it all happened while I was
waiting for something else to happen? Have the days passed by while
I was looking for a brighter tomorrow and a better way of doing
things? While hurry-scurrying around, gathering, sorting, washing,
folding, packing… suddenly the time comes.
Suddenly the time-clock
runs out and this game is over or the hour comes. This is
quintessential motherhood.
I just
came inside from the chilly porch where I hugged one of our sons and
waved him good-bye-for-now. As he drove away, the darkness giving
way to light and the early morning sun casting a pink glow on the
snow, tears flooded my eyes and instantly, all the compelling rush
was completely forgotten in the haze of the exhaust and the
taillights slowly dimming in the distance. I stood there in the
cold-still waving… the asl sign for i-love-you… and found myself
wondering—questioning what significant thing had I contributed to
that remarkable boy’s life? Was there anything noteworthy? All at
once I thought of many things I’d forgotten to remember—things I
suddenly realized I meant to say. Memories instantly flooded my
mind — sort of like those endearing slideshows you see at weddings —
the emotionally gripping photos that chronicle lives and bring tears
and laughter simultaneously one frame after another.
Part of
the calling of motherhood is that there will be suffering. There
will be days of joy and sorrow. Sort of that paradoxical truth that
in every adversity there is triumph and in every joy there is an
inextricable mix of delight and sorrow. The sorrow part is the part
we didn’t read in the fine print. The sorrow part is one of the
consequences of endearment –one of the consequences I didn’t perhaps
expect when I first received the confirmation call from the doctor’s
office or when we first saw the indicator lines in the
home-pregnancy test kit. No, in those days, we had no idea what lay
ahead, what tears we’d shed or how many sleepless nights we’d spend
waiting and walking. Waiting for a child to return home or walking
a crying baby from one end of the living room to the other: round
and round.
No, in the
early days, we had no idea what lay in store a few years down the
road. We had no grasp of where those first baby-steps would take
those feet. We had no concept that snow-tires would eventually
replace those training wheels. Even now, I probably have no real
grasp of what the consequences of motherhood are. Just as I can’t
fathom the exhilaration of tremendous joy, I can’t fathom the
plummeting sorrow—both are those inexplicable consequences of
endearment and motherhood.
I’ve often
said I wasn’t prepared for these years—the gripping anguish of
regret and disappointment, the overwhelming joy proud moments bring
and the unstoppable ticking of the clock and the turning of the
calendar pages. It seems new calendars are purchased more
frequently now. But in reality, nothing and everything prepared me
for these days. The LORD has been with me, guiding, abiding and
upholding me —preparing me for each of the next days He’d bring.
The preparation has been in the living. Bidding farewell to passing
seasons and ushering in new ones prepares us for these goodbyes.
It’s
quintessential motherhood: fully experiencing of all the seasons
over and over. Experience, history… photographs and memories all
prepare us for these goodbyes. As I look out at the morning glow on
the snow… and then at the leafless, frost covered branches of my
weeping willow tree, there’s sort of a melancholy hopeful looking
forward to what this day will bring and how I’ll one day look back
on this day.
I smile as
I realize that with every good bye… there’s a welcome home. In the
end, the true joy is looking to the ultimate welcome home.
May the
LORD bless you and bless you in your home today.
with love and thanks to the LORD Jesus, pamela spurling, Letters To
My Sisters
©
2007
Letters To My Sisters may be shared with others. Crediting
source is appreciated; please keep quotes from Letters in context.
Thank you and may the LORD bless you and your home. To Subscribe to
Letters To My Sisters, simply send an email to:
LettersToMysisters-Subscribe@WeLoveGod.org For additional
commands, e-mail:
letterstomysisters-help@welovegod.org
©A Christian Home ~
Letters To My Sisters ~ 2007 |