Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I used to have dreams about growing up, I remembered today. Dreams that didn't involve much of anything different than what I had known as a younger girl, that didn't mean that I was more mature or more responsible or a certain type of mom. They were quite simple, and involved exactly what I already have, marriage to my best friend, and a few children along the way, but I would still be me.
I remembered today that I did have a picture once of the woman I wanted to be when I grew up:
Susan Baker and the Anne Shirley of other days saw [Miss Cornelia] coming, as they sat on the big veranda at Ingleside, enjoying the charm of the cat's light, the sweetness of sleepy robins whistling among the twilit maples, and the dance of a gusty group of daffodils blowing against the old, mellow, red brick wall of the lawn.
Anne was sitting on the steps, her hands clasped over her knee, looking, in the kind dusk, as girlish as a mother of many has any right to be; and the beautiful gray-green eyes, gazing down the harbour road, were as full of unquenchable sparkle and dream as ever.
"I liked their mother's looks," said Una with a little sigh. Una envied all children their mothers. She had been only six when her mother died, but she had some very precious memories, treasured in her soul like jewels, of twilight cuddlings and morning frolics, of loving eyes, a tender voice, and the sweetest, gayest laugh.
"They say she isn't like other people," said Jerry.
"Mrs. Elliot says that is because she never really grew up," said Faith.
"She's taller than Mrs. Elliott."
"Yes, yes, but it is inside--Mrs. Elliot says Mrs. Blythe just stayed a little girl inside."
(excerpted from Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maud Montgomery)
Oh yes, I could be this kind of mother. It's funny how being able to do so little very much simplifies my perspective on life. I cry at the drop of a hat, I whine a bit about being queasy, I do what I can around the house, and I keep Piper and me fed as I think about what all this queasy means.
I wonder what the next few years will bring. I am glad each day is new, and that God still knows what is in my heart, and loves me through all the complexity I feel I must bring to it. I guess He had His reasons for making me this way. Can't figure them out, but it is good for me to know He is still God, and He doesn't change, no matter what I can't figure out.