Further thoughts on Motherhood

So, I have been having conversations with myself about motherhood because I posted something, on Facebook, about it.  To me it was moving and beautiful, but I can see how some could be offended by it if they are working mothers.  This is what I think, and it is completely personal and doesn't need to be thrust upon anyone else (ie: you don't have to read this and you can disagree :).  I think that both stay at home moms and those who work can do an excellent job at being mothers.  I believe that we should not judge one another either way.  We cannot know each other's hearts and motivations.  I think that staying at home, in some ways provides more opportunity to nurture your kids because of the amount of time you are with them.  When you work out of the home, you have to work harder at finding the quality time your children need.  I think.  but...those at home could be distracted just as easily with their time too, I guess.  In the end, what really matters to me is that I try every day to be a little bit better (and that is hard work, I have so much room to improve!).  I try to find one on one time and be a friend and a mother.  I like the idea of remembering where my children are in my life... what priority they take in the list of things I have to do.  And are they really just on that list of have to doos... and if they are on that list is it ever done? :)  My job is to help my children to be healthy people who know they are loved and are lovable... who are healed and can help heal others... they aren't something I have to do but people I can embrace and love so that the work I do, becomes a joy.  When we do what we do because we love God, family, people then Motherhood can become a joy.  The end.

Peace, and sickness

I have shrunk, cringed, hemmed and hawed at writing.  I don't know why.  Fear. Possibly.  But I must and should press on.
I don't want to forget all the little moments, good and bad.  Maybe, I will not do it perfectly but I will learn to embrace both.
Josh is still sick.  We had a few days, maybe even a week where I felt more hopeful... it was as if we are nearing the end of this last bout of chronic fatigue... I could see the finish line nearing.  And then.  We had too many late nights in a row with Birthdays, 4th of July and other celebrations and NOW... he looks gray again.  I can feel the tiredness emanating from his body, pulsing fatigue.  And I feel a little crushed.  I will repair myself.  But.  I would so love to have a healthy husband.  I would love to play basketball with him, hike and run and jump and play.

If he were better, we could take the kids to the park, we could finish school faster, have another baby (I would like four, I think.)...We could eat Green Eggs and Ham with Sam I am! we could take a walk with the Sheep as they walk in their sleep from here to there where mysterious things are everywhere... the possibilities seem limitless.  But we are not there yet.  Despite this thorn, this pricking painful thorn... life is good.  We are poor, sick and happy.  We have enough to cover our needs and some wants :)  We laugh together and enjoy one another's company, even though we cannot be as adventuresome as we would like.  I feel that I have the choice, to find happiness/peace in these difficult circumstances or I can allow myself to become bitter and resentful.  Being bitter hurts.  Peace is soothing.

Asher, my sweet boy, who finds tiny wizards hanging out on his head.  What an imagination.

Sometimes I feel like I am rediscovering him... like he isn't just a person but a world, a galaxy full of wonders to acquaint myself with. His potential and his abilities are limitless.  His intelligence, his sweetness astound me.  Not that his intelligence surprises me... he is smart... but you forget exactly who and what your child is... You start thinking of them as children who spill milk, make dust clouds in the dirt, mud pies on the side walk, don't listen to you at the park, eat pancakes for breakfast, play with their brother (sometimes sharing sometimes not)...

and then one day, one afternoon, one minute you stop and listen to what they are saying... you bend or kneel down to their level and listen and find that no, this is not a child at all... but a spirit, full of light and intelligence... someone so full of endless possibilities and greatness.  It causes your heart to expand with love for this sweet person and you feel So grateful for this small opportunity to be with them.  Moments like this happen for both my sweet little boys, where I am in awe of who my little children, really are.  God's children.

My Hug gives you Super powers

The other night, Joshua was spurring Isaac to attack me.  At the same time, Asher was trying to save me.  Asher came and gave me a big squeeze and then said, "My Hug gives you Super powers!"  His hugs do give me super powers, they fill me up with love and laughter (especially when we are playing).  What could be more super and powerful?

Life has a tendency to continually define and redefine who we are.  Sometimes the scriptures refer to this as the refiner's fire, or smoothing out the rough edges.  We have moments that seem to, with brilliant force, expose us... either with our weaknesses or with our strengths.  Sometimes both.  Occasionally, it is when we feel weakest that we are the strongest.  For, despite our frailty we keep moving forward, pushing ourselves against or over the insurmountable.  In our sojourn, we sometimes have moments of keen introspection.  We surprise ourselves with what we are able to accomplish and are sometimes saddened with the mistakes which can slowly burden us.  It is not always easy to take a step back in these moment... moments where we see just how destructive a burden can become... and still love and accept this fugitive being.  Often, this is when we find ourselves pleading with God, wishing most fervently to be encircled within His peace and love, as if in an embrace.  In this place, there is divine affirmation and healing of all the wounds we carry within.  Isn't this one of our greatest needs, to be healed and to know that God loves us?  He sees everything about us, our strengths and our weaknesses, but is most concerned with what we can become, who we really are.    It is before God that we are most vulnerable, because He knows who we are... I wonder if we were to stand before Him, like the woman waiting to be stoned... how vulnerable and frail we would feel.. knowing the effect of our sins and that they would keep us from his presence... but he does not condemn us... He knows that we are more then even we could imagine... we are an inner world of intent, desire, and love... souls aching to find safety... burdened with unmet needs...desiring to do and be good.  He knows what we need and how to heal us and give us strength to overcome.  He will light the way, allowing us to see who we truly are.  As we come to know God, we come to know ourselves and see, with His eyes, who we truly are and all the good we are capable of doing.

http://mormon.org/me/3QV2#

Soldier's letter to his Wife

A week before Manassas, Major Sullivan Ballou of the 2nd Rhode Island wrote home to his wife in Smithfeild: 

July 14, 1861
Camp Clark, Washington

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days-- perhaps tomorrow.  Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more...

I have no misivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter.  I know how strongly American Civilization now leans on the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the Revolution.  And I am willing--perfectly willing-- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt...
Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with might cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long.  And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of the future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us.  I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whipsers to me--perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed.  If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name.  Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you.  How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been!  How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness...
But, O Sarah! if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights... always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.  Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again...
Sullivan Ballou was killed at the first battle of Bull Run
one week later

What we really need is to celebrate love like this.  Mostly, our media encourages a fleeting temporary love... the relationship will only last as long as the brief moments of passion... a year maybe seven... but often not forever.

pictures

I am in a writing slump.  So here are some pics that I have been taking.

dear blog

What happened here! :)

I want to write.  I like blogging.  I don't know what to say.  Something Creative.  Some sort of Essay, where I can creatively express life in symbols and metaphors and tie it all in with being a mother and a wife.  Nothing. Got nothing.
I want to write creatively because in my last paper I wrote there were at least two amazing sentences, two sentences where I felt brilliant, like Shakespeare... and now... nothing.  So, instead I will talk about the transition back into mom hood (I never stopped being a mom, I just didn't have as much time to devote to it.)

Angel Baby who knows how to get in TRouBLe

Coming home was harder then I thought it would be.  I wanted to be home with my children, but a part of me missed the.... what is it... the socialization, the learning, group discussions, finding new literature to read...I am not sure exactly what it was that I was missing.  It was a battle of sorts for me.  I wanted to be with my children and missed those perfect days, with my children, that serve as a store-able heart warmer.  And yet I missed the 'freedom' of going to school.  Today, I had a moment where I didn't feel that tug-o-war.  Asher had made a fort on top of our couch with all of its cushions.  He was standing on top of the pile proclaiming to be a super hero AyAh.  Later, he explained how the pillows beneath him were shrinking machines, a shrink-a-madoodle, and then he shrunk me.  All this was done, while I was laying on the floor cuddling with Isaac and tickling him as we watched and listened to Asher play.  Finally, Asher joined us and then Josh came in the room and laid down on the floor... there we were... one happy, laughing family.  It was a perfect moment.  But it only lasted briefly.  One perfect moment is food for an eternity. right? :)

Practicing his Super Hero Mojo

Later, Asher gave me the super hero name of JoJo and Josh became DoDo (as prompted by myself :).  Asher doesn't realize the significance of DoDo yet. :)