Today Martha has a very cute halloween clipart project. Simple, easy, cute, and not scary. Here it is.
Which brings me to my confession of the day. I don't have my fall decorations out. I did finally dust the living room on Friday, though, so I think today is the day. Right after I get back from our picnic at the Arboretum. We're having another delightful fall day today, so I think I should take advantage of that fact.
How about you? Is your house decorated for fall yet? And how do you like to spend beautiful fall days?
Mom is one of the most stressful jobs in the world. At any given moment you might be required to suddenly don the hat of doctor/nurse, chauffeur, cook, math teacher, music teacher, therapist, or housekeeper. And that's not even including the jobs required for taking care of a baby. You have no warning about what demand might come at you in the next minute. And then there are the more important but less urgent mothering jobs, things like planning for your children's education or spiritual development. Deciding which opportunities they should take and which to let pass by. Many paid jobs are stressful too, but they aren't as all-consuming and long-term as Mom--this job is 24/7 for your whole life!
A few summers ago I read a book called Lies Women Believe and the Truth That Sets Them Free by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. It was a good book, but the one thing that really stuck with me was this truth: I have time for everything God has given me to do today. How freeing! God has given us mortals a set amount of hours in each day, and he will not give us more jobs than we are supposed to do in that day. If we feel like we are not able to get everything done in a given day (in every given day, it sometimes feels like), that's because we are taking on more than we should or different things than we should.
There is never enough time to do everything that is one everyone else's to-do list for Mom. You cannot do it all--be a cheerful wife and mother, keep a clean and organized house, prepare healthy from-scratch meals every day, help at your kids' school and at church, keep physically fit, wear the latest fashions, keep up on current events, and have a job outside the home.
But God didn't give you all of those jobs. DeMoss writes, "Frustration is the by-product of attempting to fulfill responsibilities God does not intend for us to carry. Freedom, joy, and fruitfulness come from seeking to determine God's priorities for each season of life and then setting out to fulfill those priorities, in the power of His Spirit, realizing that He has provided the necessary time and ability to do everything that He has called us to do."
I want to replace my frustration with freedom, joy, and fruitfulness. I think part of the key is in that phrase she uses, "for each season of life." Much of my frustration comes from trying to do things in the wrong season. When my kids are babies and constantly getting colds is probably not the season to work in the nursery, since I'm usually home with them for about half the Sundays between November and March. But when they are a little older and one of them can serve in the nursery with me is probably a good season for that. On the other hand, the elementary school years are the right season to help in the kids' school. The season of being home with babies might be the right time to be in a book study with neighbors, but it's probably not the time to try to get my house onto the cover of HouseBeautiful.
I suppose the big question is how do you determine what is right for your season of life? Prayer obviously plays a big part. Asking the advice of older women is often helpful. Sitting down with a pencil and paper and deciding what your goals and priorities are is a good exercise. If your goals for this season are personal spiritual growth, a healthy marriage, and caring for young children, your time will spent differently than if your goals are a cheeful, orderly home, hospitality, and paying for a child's college education.
On those days when 100 demands are coming at you from every direction, just repeat that mantra to yourself: I have time for everything I am supposed to do today. Then ask God to show you what is most important and free yourself from the rest of it.
And since it's Friday, how about this oldie but goodie:
Sometimes I feel like I'm invisible to my children. Maybe I'm some kind of superhero with an invisibility cloak. That would explain why they ignore me when I'm telling them to clean up the socks they left in the middle of the living room. again. Why they ask me for advice on an assignment and then do the opposite of what I've suggested. Why the first words out of their mouth after school are "can I have someone over?" rather than "hi, Mom!"
I am certainly useful in their little lives--wiping up their messes, drying their tears, reading books to them, feeding them, taking them places, and buying them stuff. But I doubt they know my favorite kind of flower or care about what book I'm reading. It makes no difference to them that I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Wheaton College or at one time could write A-level papers on great works of literature. They don't ask about my day or think to offer to make me a snack.
It used to bother me, this invisibility. But now that I've given it some thought, I think that's the way things should be. If my children notice me, then probably I am drawing attention to myself rather than to the God I serve. When they think back on their childhood, I want my children to remember the happy memories I helped create, not my martyred look as I got up extra early to make cinnamon rolls and decorate the table. I want them to see a comfortable home, not a shrine to mom. I want their life purpose to be to love and serve God, not me.
Now, on some level I think it's appropriate to draw my children's attention to the service I do for them. It's not right for them to treat me--and later a spouse or friend--like a slave. Kids need to be taught to notice and say thank you when someone does something kind for them. But my overall goal should be to serve God by serving my children, not to do what I can to make myself feel loved and appreciated.
My mind is drawn once again to that email that circulated a few years ago about how mothers are building cathedrals. Just like the countless men who build the great cathedrals, our works--and sometimes we ourselves--are invisible, but we are building great monuments. Who knows whether one note tucked into a lunch box or one conversation on the way home from piano lessons will make all the difference in the lives of our children. The author writes,
"'No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.' At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride."
Jesus put it a different way: "Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:40). Every nose I wipe, every diaper I change, every late-night ride home from an activity, every load of laundry can be done as unto the Lord. Thinking about that infuses these mundane tasks with purpose. Jesus sees every thankless, boring, invisible task we do to serve others--and he is in the business of redeeming those things for his glory in our lives, in the lives of our children, and before a watching world.
Motherhood is, in many ways, a thankless task. And that's a good thing.
