I’ve had such a great morning. I just got back from a Mom Group up at my church, and it was so refreshing and reassuring and it made me realize how important this day-to-day, seemingly mundane, “I-don’t-have-enough-hands-to-carry-all-this-junk-and-the-baby” stuff really is… It’s so good to sit around and listen to older women (who have actually SURVIVED being young mommies) talk about their experiences and what they’ve learned, and to let you know that you aren’t crazy for feeling crazy ALMOST ALL OF THE TIME.
This is a season. It will fly by like the others. And this job I’m doing? It’s SO VERY important. Ezra could literally change the world some day. Or he could change the life of ONE PERSON who was hurting or in despair and needed his friendship and guidance. And how amazing is that?? And then his children will do the same. And suddenly, I’m in this huge wave of PERSPECTIVE and I look behind me to see all the women who came before me so that I could live the blessed life I live today. And the sacrifices of constantly cleaning-up after a hyper toddler or not being able to go out as much and do things I feel like doing don’t seem so huge or troublesome anymore… It’s suddenly this great HONOR to be a part of something so big and natural and intricate and IMPORTANT.
I think that our generation has really lost sight of this whole ‘bigger picture’ way of living, and it’s terribly sad. The generations before us lived with this perspective… They remembered the men and women before them and honored them, and they lived their lives knowing that the younger generation they were pouring their hearts and souls into would carry on and on and on, and they respected that cycle of life more than my generation does today.
I’m finding myself so HUNGRY to know more about my family history and where I come from and the sacrifices that were made generations ago so that I could sit here in my comfortably air-conditioned home and type this to you all on my nice computer… I want to acknowledge what they did for me and then tell Ezra about their amazing lives so he can pass it on to his little ones someday… Like, did Great Grandma Artie like to sing? Did she like to read like I do? Was Grandpa Orville stubborn like me? Were Grandpa Bob’s fingers crooked like that because his daddy’s fingers were crooked too? Or was it true that if you pulled on ’em hard enough, they’d go straight again? On and on and on…
I think all of this is just me feeling this natural, God-given thing built into my gut to want to know what I’m a part of and where I fit into it all. You know… like ‘The Lion King’… Circle of life stuff. Elton John and whatnot.
Either that, or I’ve just been watching WAY too much Oprah.