Years ago, Mike and
I decided not to have children. There was a copious amount of indecision, some
math (when the kids enter college, I’ll be…), alternating months of trying (see
indecision above), and, ultimately a decision.
Followed by several
months of grieving, even though I was the primary decision-maker. This all
happened while I was in a spectacularly crummy job, so I shed lots of tears in
my gold Saturn coupe that year (the car – also a reason to mourn – I hated
it!).
While I was driving
and mourning, I did my best to wear out Sara Groves’ “The Other Side of
Something” CD. If you are going through a difficult time, I would highly
recommend this album (obviously). She’s a Minnesotan, too, so I love her
automatically. :)
The song “Esther”
helped me transition from mourning to acceptance. I used to say I would have a
dozen children if money were no object. This song showed me that, without my
own children, I had room for WAY more than a dozen children in my life. In
fact, at the time, I already had more than a dozen.
The song tells a
story about Esther and David. He was a soldier who died before they conceived
any children. After he dies, she goes to Africa and falls in love with its
children. Her life is devoted to caring for them there and raising help for
them here. (Crying yet? I am!)
Here’s the chorus:
“Now Esther has 2.4 million children
She writes us and asks us to pray for them all
She writes us and asks us to pray for them all
She’s compelled, she’s
compelled by what she’s seen
And she tells us, she tells us do anything you can
To help, oh please help, there’s so much to do
And I’m just Esther”
And she tells us, she tells us do anything you can
To help, oh please help, there’s so much to do
And I’m just Esther”
Ohhhhhhh. It brings
tears and inspires me every time. I looked for a YouTube link so you can
listen, but couldn’t find one, so you’ll have to go to iTunes and check it out.
(Other favorites from that album: The Boxer, Like a Skin, and a beautiful
version of the classic hymn Come Thou Fount.)
Do I wish we’d had
children of our own? I don’t know. I wonder if I’ll regret it. I know I won’t
have the joy and torture of having my own children, things like nursing a wee
one in the middle of the night, and early, cold, rainy Saturday mornings for
pee-wee “soccer” practice. When I watch my little friends’ performances, games,
races, etc., or help them learn to have fun, drive, love God, etc., I know the
pride I feel is no where near what their parents’ feel. My life is easier, but
shallower.
I’m OK with that.
We would have had small children during Mike’s transplant. We would have
elementary students now, while I’m going through cancer treatment. We might
have teens without a mom. God would have provided everything we needed to get
through, but it’s a lot easier to do Big Scary Medical without little hearts
and minds at risk.
Several years ago,
probably in the dentist’s waiting room, I read an article on how motherhood
changed Felicity Huffman. It listed loads of positive effects, but what
resonated with me was that, despite all of her successes, motherhood made her
somewhat of an emotional wreck because she was always re-evaluating and
second-guessing all of her mothering choices. I read an unrelated devotional on
motherhood this morning that said “becoming a mother will leave an emotional
wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable” (that was a beautiful,
moving, honoring description of motherhood – please check it out here and pass
it on: http://stillnessofthemorning.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/motherhood/).
I know myself well
enough that, as a mom, I would spend too much time on the re-evaluation and
second-guessing merry-go-round. I spend a lot of time there just with my girls
from church! Is there any mom NOT on this spinning wheel? All I can say to moms
is that I see you do the absolute best with what you have at the time. Being
low on information, wisdom, perspective, sleep, etc. means you don’t always
make the best decision, but you can’t be perfect. So please give yourself grace
and forgiveness and be encouraged by doing the best you can at the time. Kids
are resilient and God is gracious and can cover every mistake you make.
Coming back from
the rabbit trail…
If I had my own
children, my little friends (who really aren’t so little any more) would just
be my friend’s children or my children’s friends, and our relationship would be
different. Recently, a friend told me her kids like me because I LISTEN to
them. If I had my own kids talking incessantly, I sure wouldn’t be doing a lot
of listening to others’ kids! ;) So I count that as a great blessing: having
the bandwidth to hear my little friends means I can invest in their mental and
spiritual selves and, hopefully, help increase their self-confidence. Which
their parents do very well, I might add, but it’s good to get that from other
adults, too.
To all of my young
friends, I love you. I love listening to you. I love talking about God and
spiritual things with you. I love the notes and photos and videos and jokes and
awkward questions we share. I LOVE camping with you. I love your parents as
your parents and as my friends. You will always be welcome in my heart and my
home. This post and this day is for you and all the joy you bring into my life:
Anna and Jacob. Zoe and Ainsley. Connor, Jack, and Matthew. Sam and Madison.
Emily, Nathan, and Aiden. Kelli and Connor. Peter and Sarah. Natalie, Brady,
and Abbie. Jackson and Montana. Brooke and Paige. Colton, Sierra, and Carmel.
Hannah, Ines, Heidi, Jennifer, Katelyn, Marissa, Lauren, Sicilia. Stephanie,
Abbe, Devon, Emilie, Rachel, Jenna, Kelsey, Mia, Miranda, Olivia, Sharayah.
Katy. Natalie. Ashton. Alec and Evan. There are certainly more, so please
forgive me if I forgot in this moment. Much love!
(photo from last summer: matching hairstyles with my niece)
