This Fall my heart turned inward--towards my home, my hearth, my family. I felt this irresistible pull to bind my family together in love and harmony, memory and tradition...before it's too late.
Why? Let me quote Katrina Kenison as she reflects on the growing up of her boys:
"My boys no longer share a tub, not ever. Now Henry showers alone, and Jack washes his own hair. And so the door has swung shut on the fantasy world they created in the bathtub, and on the long hours they splashed and played there together, emerging at last with pruney fingers and toes, to be wrapped in towels and bundled off to warm beds. Our morning cuddles are rare now, too. Jack is sleeping later, and Henry likes to be the first one dressed and downstairs. He puts on his own music, sets the table for breakfast, and basks in his newfound sense of independence. So my husband and I find ourselves alone again, arms wrapped around each other instead of around children. Both boys head off to play outside alone these days, full of their own plans and no longer in need of adult supervision or interference. Henry jumps on his bike and rides around the block; Jack walks to the pool with an older friend.
"And so my role is changing, too; I am called to be less of a playmate now and more and more simply a witness to my children's own breathtaking processes of growth and inner awakening. It is with some pang of sadness that I acknowledge our endings. My days of cradling a small, soapy head in my hands; of rocking a son to sleep; of carrying a tired boy on my back; of reading...and talking with teddy bears are over. And I miss them already, miss being needed that much, miss the confidence of knowing so surely where I should be and what I should be doing from one moment to the next.
"Just when I figure out how to mother a kindergartner, it seems, I have a first-grader standing before me instead. I have just learned how to love and live with a nine-year-old when the nine-year-old vanishes, leaving a preadolescent in his place. They don't stay still long enough for me to have my fill of them ever, at any stage. 'Stop!' I want to shout. 'Let's just do it this way for a while, let's stay right here.'...Little did I know that the yearning to seize life in a freeze-frame would never really go away, or that my desire to hold on to whatever we had and whatever we were at any given moment would always be in conflict with my sons' own natural instincts: to grow up, to live, to fulfill their own destinies on this earth. Sometimes, it seems, there are discernible changes overnight. The boy who meets my gaze at the breakfast table is not the same one whose cheek I kissed the night before. And even as I marvel at the latest incarnation, I grieve for yesterday's child, already a memory. To love them is always to let them go, bit by bit, day after day."
And I know these things so deep in my heart because I feel the same way. To think of my little boys and girl growing up so fast, and Tate turning 5 yesterday just gives me such a deep, deep pain in my heart. But along with the pain, I feel such a sweet relishing of the moment. It's such a bittersweet feeling, this simultaneous holding on and letting go of motherhood.
So I strive with all my might to mother intentionally, to create this home and family and space I dream of. Again from Katrina Kenison--she says it so much better than I ever could:
"More and more...I felt that motherhood itself was becoming my real vocation. It seemed that the more consciousness I was willing to bring to it, the more meaningful this role became. Shaping and protecting our family space, celebrating birthdays and holidays, setting a mood around the dinner table, cultivating an atmosphere in our home, painting and baking and storytelling with my sons, simply attending to the details of our lives together--these and countless other activities both large and small came to represent opportunities for deeper attention, work, and growth. Over and over I found myself both humbled and challenged by the magnitude of my task as a mother in contemporary society. Could I find a way to bring beauty and meaning to an empty afternoon, while the rest of the world spun on at a different pace?...Did I possess the self-discipline I needed to effectively discipline two boys? Did I have the inner strength to resist the values of corporate, materialistic America--and to shape a different set of traditions and ideals? Could I summon enough humor, patience, flexibility, and love to meet their needs from one day to the next? Was I conscious enough of my own needs to articulate them, and meet them, too? Could I let one identity fall away and begin to forge a new one out of such reflections [and] lessons...?
"In any case, our focus has shifted. We have been pulled back to our own hearths, our own families, our own inner lives."
This Fall I had this envisioning well up inside me of what I wanted my life to be like--this Mayberry-like existence with a haven of home within. I wanted simplicity and meaning to just drip from every moment. I wanted sort of set-in-stone rituals and traditions that my children could learn to rely on...year after year.
So I set about creating a vision board and through no conscious thought, how I organized my dreams in the form of magazine and card clippings became three different manilla folders--one for my personal spiritual life, one for my home and family, and one for our family traditions and rituals. And I realized that really, my whole goal in life is three-fold---
to be a disciple of Christ, to bind my family together, and to bring my family Home.
You see, I firmly and deeply believe that mothering and homemaking is a career path, a vocation, a noble endeavor. I am a home executive of my very own "Home Inc." I manage the finances, I have training meetings with my little "employees," we work and play and somehow get everything done while at the same time having a fun and memorable time. I play master chef, chief launderer, and am the head of the activities department. I teach, I clean, I listen as a counselor, the list is extensive and probably never-ending. I feel such fulfillment in motherhood. Now all I need to do is figure out how to turn my Home Inc. into the haven of my dreams.
And it's coming along. Slowly but surely. Oh so surely.
Sarah Ban Breathnach reflects on the home during the nineteenth century:
"Ordinary middle-class women elevated the pursuit of domestic bliss to an extraordinary art form, from white-linen Sunday dinner to blue-checked-gingham Independence Day picnics. Women approached the domestic arts--cooking, decorating, gardening, handicrafts, and entertaining--not as burdens but as a form of personal expression and a means of persuasion. Traditions that celebrated the joys of home and family life acted as the mystical mortar that held bodies and souls together in a tumultuous society that was changing at the speed of light.
"The time has come for us to look deep within. Reconsider how caring for our homes can be an expression of our authenticity. We may not know how to bleach linen,...cure ham, or bottle gooseberries. But it's not too late for us to rediscover the sacred soul craft of homecaring. Creating a comfortable, beautiful, well-run home can be among our most satisfying accomplishments as well as an illuminating spiritual experience. Like sweat equity, channeling your time and creative energy closer to home will produce a big emotional return for yourself and those you love."
And as this winter season ebbs and flows, I am in the marvelous process of gathering and sorting and prioritizing our family's everyday rhythms and rituals as well as our holiday and seasonal traditions. ( I can't wait to share them.) My heaven on earth continues to be shaped for the better every day. It's never perfect, and more often than I'd care to admit, so far from my dream life, but it's an extraordinary work in progress....
