It's not the first time I've seen it... over the course of 18 years I have both witnessed and experienced it innumerable times. My mom is a devoted, wouldn't-have-it-any-other way stay at home mom, and from hemming her 5' nothing daughter's pants (guess who?)- to spending hours in the kitchen just so that we can have a meal together, it seems like there's nothing she can't handle.
Although I have been a recipient of this selfless and beautiful poetry for years, I have not always seen it. I saw her chop onions and place that next load in the dryer, and yes, I saw her in the mirror all those times as she struggled to curl my hair in a way that would please me. I saw her eyes light up as she saw me in the perfect prom dress, then widen as she saw the price tag... only to light up again as she said, "I don't care. You love it; we're buying it."
I have seen all these things with my physical eyes... yet gone blind when it came to the vision of my heart. But today, today I saw poetry.
We were in the kitchen... the poem that is my mother, and myself. She was explaining to me a conversation she'd had with another mom who simply "didn't get it." In a world where nannies, daycare, feminism, and the working woman run rampant, this mom just couldn't understand what my mom was doing staying at home. Not only that, but home school?
My mom is neither the confrontational nor the argumentative type, so she saved most of her rebuttals for me. Near tears and clutching her heart as she spoke because of how ardently she meant it, my mom began telling me why she home schools my little sister: "Yes, there are so many other things that I could be doing, and yes, I could be working on my photography a whole lot more, but I believe this is what is best for Rachel. It's hard on me with trying to cook and clean and watch my granddaughter, but I can't in good conscience let her go to public school and fall behind. If I have to get up an hour earlier to learn Latin just so I can teach her, I'll do it. It's hard on me, but it would be so much harder to see Rachel coming out of high school with a low self-esteem and feeling stupid. I won't let that happen."
Some might call that oppressive, based on one adjective... "hard." Are all things "hard" considered to be "oppressive"? If that's the case, I could start my own advocacy group against school and chores. School was hard, I didn't always like it... wow, kids, rise up! You are being oppressed! Chores are hard... never really have liked them. Children everywhere, join with me! Are we such slaves to our parents that in the 21st century we still have to do chores?
Not all things that are hard are oppressive. To some, my mom's case is oppressive. But to my mom? A different set of priorities.
Society has made my mom an anomaly. A person to be skeptical of, and look sideways at. An unusual, conservative, over-indulging, oppressed, and incapable idiot. Why would you spend the time to teach your kids when the government already provides that for you? And the kids get out of your hair for five whole days, getting their proper socialization? Why stay at home with them when there is a perfectly equipped daycare right around the corner?
My mom has become- as she puts it- "A dinosaur." She now has to defend herself in every-day conversation for doing what God created her to do, and being what God created her to be... a mother! Even among friends.
Television scorns her, politicians fight against her, and women roll their eyes at her.
But you know what? My mom has written poetry. Poetry that the world may be blind to... but poetry that is burned and sealed into the hearts of her children, and read by Father God Almighty. Poetry that is still being written as she bravely continues sacrificing for the next generation... for her granddaughter, Mackenzie. If you asked her, she probably wouldn't call it sacrificing, but: Love.
Now, there is not anything wrong with being a working woman or putting your child in daycare if the need arises, however- and this is important- neither is there anything wrong with what my mom does for a living. If she wanted to be a career woman, great! We'd be happy for her, cheer her on to victory, and proudly brag on her. But she has never expressed any such desire, and I can say this honestly: I still want to brag on her.
What is Poetry in Motion? It's you, moms... you putting your foot on the gas to pick up and drop off; you throwing that disaster of a diaper into the trash, and you hugging and consoling. Don't you ever let anyone tell you differently.
Pick up your pen, and write. Write unashamedly. Not because it's going to be easy, or because you'll always be recognized and lauded, but because the eyes of the Lord are on you. He sees every hidden tear, every forced, patient reply, and every kiss on the forehead.
Do it so that God may say smilingly, "Yes, now there is my love at work. She is my Poetry... my scriptures, and what they teach... in Motion."
Know that he is with you every step... not to judge you, but to cheer you on. He has equipped you for the race you will run, and wants to see you get to the finish line. Never stop doing what's right because you grow tired... let God take over from there.
To anyone who asks my mom the question: "What are you doing at home?", I got this one. She's being a mom and a grandmom, and no, you can't take her from us.
Ah, Lizzie, thank you for writing. I have wondered for some time when I might find you in your own blog, and I am so very pleased to finally see that day come. I feel so honored to be able to read your work.
ReplyDeleteNow that I have you here, I want to share a tiny insight from a fellow writer (me). I have found the deeper I draw from the Well of Living Water, the more my own heart overflows with beauty and richness that should characterize good writing. I hope that you find yourself deeply imbibing from this same Well as often as you can. It never runs dry.
I can hear your "voice" as I read this, and to me, this is a sure sign of a gifted writer. For this I praise you and hope to hear more. A "voice" is not easily taught in a class room, and to me, this demonstrates your giftedness. I am excited to read more.
If I may offer up one more word of encouragement...? Be brave in your writing. Lizzie, it is terrifying, at times, to share the deepest things of your heart (both the noble and the nearly unspeakable). It takes incredible strength to lay yourself bare to criticism and misunderstanding... especially when you are sharing things that may be so close to your heart. To those who do not write, this makes little sense, but I suspect that if you do not know this feeling already, you soon will. Be brave, be strong, and remember that He walks every lonely road with you.
Write on.
Thank you for reading, following, and commenting! I fear you were too kind in your comments, but I am very grateful for them anyway. This particular blog ended up as a kind of un-edited rant. Writing does that to me... draws out emotions I wasn't aware were even there, and lays bare my heart.
ReplyDeleteSo you are absolutely right. It is terrifying! I try to write honestly and in truth, and doing so can make a person feel very vulnerable and exposed. I so appreciate you recognizing that, and thank you for your words of encouragement. I often need to be reminded to be brave... it's not exactly an attribute I find myself in excess of.