Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat (Weekend Edition) Jan. 6, 2012
There were mornings that year when I did not feel like getting up. The five older children were in school. When they left, I felt as if the very purpose in my life had been drained right along with them. Getting everyone out the door was a nonstop, exhausting affair: the commuting husband, the middle and high school children, and then the elementary school children. When they were gone, the emptiness surrounded and threatened to choke me. What did the day hold for me?
I was left in the middle of a mess – like a rescue worker trying to rebuild after hurricane damage on a daily basis. I was engulfed by the hustle and bustle, but inside I had nothing. Every day was the same. I was left, empty, standing in the midst of devastation that, with significant imagination and even more significant effort, could have been a beautiful home.
There was the two-year-old waiting to wake up, sometimes sweet and satiated, but oftentimes cranky yet unwilling to eat. In the absence of the older siblings, he became demanding and needy, and this was a problem, because I felt the neediest. Did he feel deserted the way that I did?
That slump was an odd stage. Ironically, my problem came, not from being overwhelmed as I had been used to for the many years when I had homeschooled the children. There was no time then to think about what my needs were, because I was used to being needed all the time. And now, the only thing that seemed to need my attention were inanimate objects, like dirty laundry, unmade beds, and dirty dishes. (The children have always had chores, but in the crazy-busy mornings, and during the academic year, sometimes, you get to be the catch-all.)
I know. It’s okay if you shake your head and ask what I could possibly have had to complain about. I had the luxury of being at home. I had six healthy children who were bright and beautiful people. I had a practical and caring husband. What was my problem?
In my right state of mind, I can reflect and wonder the same thing. It’s a different sort of vision, though, when you are drowning in the midst of your woes. The man on shore can calmly see and point out where the rope to the life preserver is. Why wasn’t I in a ladies’ Bible study group? Why hadn’t I joined a gym? There are programs for taking children along. Why wasn’t I volunteering in the schools or at the hospital?
Simple. I would survey the scene around me. I saw an overwhelming amount of work. What business did I have to try volunteering outside the home? I could barely keep up inside. It may be counterintuitive, but sometimes, I need the impetus of additional work to get any of it done.
I wish I had looked into a group for mothers of preschoolers MOPS or others like the Women of Wonder (WOW). When you do something for others or with others, outside the confines of your four walls, no matter how much or how little space those four walls encompass, you have a sense of purpose. We all need purpose in our lives.
I finally got out of my slump of self-pity when I heard a message I had often heard before. But this time, I heard it anew: Jesus would have made His journey and died on the cross even if the sacrifice were for just one person: you or me.
I looked over at my sleeping preschooler. Wow. How many people are deprived the joys of parenthood? I felt a sense of shame creep over me. If Jesus would have died for just one person, why could I not live “just” for one child? He needed me to be mentally and spiritually alive just as much as the others.
Looking over at that particular moment and seeing my sleeping child is a distinct memory. It was a moment of resolve and renewed power. It was the answer to a prayer I had not knowingly uttered. Lord, give me strength and give me purpose.
This is the beauty of the holiday season, of Christmas and New Year. It need not be saved for December 25th or January 1st. We can celebrate the sacrifice of Christmas and we can celebrate a new beginning all year long. Jesus made the journey to earth and began it in a lowly manger. He ended it on a cross, flanked by criminals. In the thirty-three years between, He turned the world upside down.
Love your enemies. Pray for those who use you. Allow yourself to be used. Put away the lights, and light up your heart. Happy New Year 2012, all year long!
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