I remember sitting outside writing in my journal and thinking about motherhood. I was pregnant and a lot of things were changing for me. Where I was once in school, I would not be in the fall. Even though I was once single, I had a husband now. For a while it would be just the two of us, and soon (sooner than I had anticipated) we would be a family of three.
It was weird to think about motherhood, having seen many people who are mothers or have been mothers, but never having been one myself. I was 100% terrified and 100% exhilarated (if you can't see how two emotions can both be at 100%, just try pregnancy and the hormones that come with it!). We were starting our own family, and it was a joyous, yet frightening, occasion. The biggest question on my mind was "How will motherhood change me?" I felt like once I was a mother, that's it, that's all I would ever be. It seemed as though my first sacrifice in motherhood was my previous, non-mother, identity. However, in thinking about it, I found that that was not true. If I picture myself as a tree with many different branches of my personality sticking out from it, that tree does not just wither and die because I became a mother. It didn't do that when I became a wife. Or when I moved away to school. Or even when I graduated highschool. These momentous life occasions helped grow my person into who it is today. Motherhood, I came to assume would just grow a new branch. I was partly right. While there is a fresh growth of a branch labelled mother on it, many things that were already existent as part of my identity were growing stronger. In the past six-ish months since becoming a mother, I have grown a strength of love I didn't know was possible. I have persevered for longer than I ever thought I could. It seems like I have had my patience tested to the limits more in the past six months than in the rest of my life prior. Motherhood has nurtured many of the old branches into new life. Some of the old branches that are less selfless have grown to be bigger too, but I'm working on that. I work on it by focusing on the good gifts God has given me. I work on it by focusing on the fact that although I am a mother, I am still a child of God, and so I follow example set for me by my mother and the mothers (biological or otherwise) that I am so blessed to be surrounded by.
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This week I was chatting with one of my very best friends and at one point the conversation turned to our mild dissatisfaction with elements of our life. In both cases, we thought the other person's life narrative had what we were missing. Funny that.
One of my favourite quotes is from The Lord of The Rings. In The Two Towers Sam is talking to Frodo about their journey and the struggles they have had; as well as the ones they foresee. In the middle of this, Sam drops an incredibly beautiful and insightful description of the way we see ourselves in our own narratives. "'The brave things in the old tales and songs Mr.Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same - like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?'" (The Two Towers, J.R.R Tolkien) I think I could stop writing now and we would all be enlightened simply by those words. Enlightened, and inspired and emboldened. How many times have I looked at someone else having an adventure and lusted for their experience? At times for me, I know I just want to be on anybody else's path but mine. However, as my husband has wisely said "God lays the path before you." It's an idea I'm sure he got from the bible, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." (Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV) But I am so glad that Tolkien includes this little nugget. While it doesn't discuss the humdrum of life necessarily, it does mention the inevitability of uncertainty. The idea that no - we don't know what kind of tale we are in. We don't know, and we always have the option of turning back, of checking out when life gets routine and simple. When we turn back and check out, we miss out on so much story potential. As much as I am afraid of staying the same, I am even more frightened by the possibility of change. What if I do things differently and things aren’t the same after? What if I "[Come] home, and [find] things all right, though not quite the same" (The Two Towers, Tolkien) If I take the path ahead of me, what adventures await me? Even if I get impatient with waiting, I believe it's worth it. I believe God will tailor the path I walk. Or run. Or crawl. Uncertainty exists, but so does faith. And trust. So I will carry on, only God knows what the path holds for me. |
Jordan is...A mother, artist, designer and loyal friend. May this blog bring you hope and a normalization of both emotion and logic. Archives
March 2021
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