Tag: philosophy

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Faith Fulfillment

Life is rough, and then you die

At the recommendation of a bookstore manager, I picked up a book the other day. I recognized the author’s last name as the maiden name of one of my church youth group leaders. Turns out, not only was the author the mother of my youth group leader, but my former leader had been instrumental in editing that book for publication. I really enjoyed the book and marked several passages to delve into further on MamaBlogga.

How many times have I told my tantruming toddler, “Life is rough—and then you die”? At least a few. But is this something I really want him to internalize?

Marilynne Todd Linford takes aim at this popular teaching in her book We Are Sisters:

To say that life is difficult or suffering or filled with unyielding despair is as erroneous as saying life is easy, carefree, or filled with continual bliss. (132)

Yes, life is rough, but it trivializes all life to say that all of life is suffering. I make no secret that I think that motherhood is difficult. (Frankly, anyone who thinks otherwise is probably crazy or should be having (more) kids, because they’re obviously doing better than I am with my one.) But, like life, motherhood isn’t endless drudgery (at least once a baby can start responding to you, in my opinion) and pain.

Life is not just rough. Unlike C-3PO, we are not made to suffer. While some suffering is our lot in life, it’s not the be-all and end-all of our existence. After all, as the Apostle John quoted Jesus Christ, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).

Linford continues:

Does it matter, then, if you think life is difficult? Yes, because it is a half-truth, and by acting on a false foundation we build on shifting sands. When you realize that life is not difficult but made up of opposing forces, the precious gift of agency becomes even more crucial. (133)

Yes, life is sometimes rough, but I need to remember that we can choose to look at the positive or dwell on the negative—and dwelling on the negative aspects of life won’t bring happiness. I need to remember to highlight the good things in my son’s life—and mine.

Categories
Fulfillment Faith

Growing Pains

We’ve all heard the phrase ‘growing pains’—and I hope not just as the title of the Kirk Cameron 80s sitcom. I remember as a teenager, my legs ached during a growth spurt. More vividly, I remember the sundry pains and discomforts of pregnancy as my baby (and belly) grew.

Despite these experiences, I tend to think of growth in rather innocuous terms. I just don’t imagine a germinating seed to be in any discomfort.

In the last few weeks, Hayden has begun his latest round of teething. Two new teeth have erupted, and two more are on the way. His pain has been tormenting us all lately, and no amount of acetaminophen is helping. Often, I’m tempted to tell my poor little boy, “Life’s rough—and then you die.”

While the statement has become a cliché among mothers, as I deal with his frustrated cries, I’m reminded that life is rough—and not just for my preverbal toddler. Between keeping him happy and out of the cat’s litterbox, and keeping the house clean and the family fed, I often have trouble keeping my sanity intact.

Whenever I start to feel that I’ve gotten the hang of this motherhood thing, something changes and I have to start all over again. When I was just starting out as a mother, I felt as though I might drown in motherhood. It was so completely overwhelming to have someone who needed you so completely, so often (okay, constantly).

Why was this so hard? Why would the calling of motherhood, one that I know is divinely appointed, make me feel as though I couldn’t bear another day of it? If this is how my life should be, why was I falling apart?

Why was motherhood so hard—so hard that my even my soul ached? How could this be God’s will for me if it made me feel so terrible?

I don’t think I really began to understand until I read this:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house than the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 205)

I wanted to grow as a mother—but I wanted to be the seed. I wanted to have all of the benefits of motherhood (um… wait, wait, don’t tell me… 😉 ) without the work—and the pain.

But after giving birth, there’s no epidural for the rest of motherhood. And you know what? I’m beginning to believe that it’s a good thing, too. Besides, being a seed probably isn’t as easy as it looks.

For more posts on growth, see scribbit’s April Write-Away Contest Entries.

Categories
Fulfillment

What does the world expect of mothers?

I was more than a little saddened to read this a couple weeks ago from Kim at Catawampus (via Karen at StrollerDerby; read both if you read one; the takes are pretty different)

These days, here’s what society preaches to women:

  1. You can’t be fulfilled unless you have a man and a child.
  2. If you have a child, you should WANT to stay home with your baby, all day, every day.
  3. Doing this will make you feel happy and fulfilled and complete in ways you never imagined.
  4. When your kids are older, you can always go right back into your career.

Here’s what I hear from society:

  1. You can’t be fulfilled unless you have a career (not just a job!) and money. External stuff—praise from your boss, “going places” in your career, toys—makes you happy and fulfilled.
  2. Money. Make money. Yes, have kids, but get back to work ASAP.
  3. More money. Two incomes are an absolute necessity.
  4. “You can have it all” or “You can have it all at once” or even “You must have it all at once.”

I was wondering if I was crazy until I saw my experience echoed in an essay that I haven’t finished reading yet, but I can tell it’s something I need to see. It’s called “I Am a Mother” (and I’m guessing it’s from the author’s book of the same name). When she decided to leave her career to raise her child-to-be,

I found that the reaction from my female colleagues was largely, and disappointingly, less than supportive. I shared my decision with one woman who smugly joked, “Why don’t you just get a nanny?” Another network executive asked me what I was going to do once I got to Boston. I told her I was going to have a family, I was going to be a mother. “No, I understand that,” she said, puzzled, “but what are you going to do?”

All of this was still fresh on my mind during that evening spent near Washington, D.C. A chorus of “I’m just a mother,” juxtaposed with “What will you be without your job?” and “You’re making a terrible mistake” made me wonder, Could they be ­right?

I may struggle with finding “fulfillment” from constantly keeping my 13 month old from playing with the cat food, but I know there is more to motherhood than just that. Society as a whole will probably never understand motherhood. (Kim at Embracing Momminess has an interesting post on this topic, too, looking at the political/feminist side of societal pressure on motherhood.)

I also realize that no matter how many children I have, they can’t give me fulfillment. It’s not a gift you wrap and stick under the tree. However, a job—or a whole career—can’t just give it to me either.

My fulfillment has to start with me. And realizing that is the first step on that path.

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Random

Notes on ‘Faith’

In high school, as part of the IB program(me), we had to take a class called Theory of Knowledge.  As you might guess from the title, that’s an epistemology (study of knowledge) class.  We talked about and tried to hammer out working definitions of lots of words relating to knowledge, among them, faith.

Among the dozen or so members of this class were several faiths, including Christian (Baptist, nondenominational and LDS), Muslim, Buddhist and I believe Hindu.  (Sigh. I miss diversity.)

Anyway, the discussion on the definition of faith became interesting when I insisted that there is room in faith for doubt.  Most people in the class, especially those very active in their religions (as I am), strenuously disagreed.

Today in church our lesson was on faith, and I finally (six years later) found the words to accurately explain what I meant.

Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things.  It’s not to have a sure knowledge.  Faith isn’t certain.  (If you’re certain, which I do believe you can be when it comes to religion, then you know.)

However, faith has conviction.  You believe something to be true, you hope for something to be true, but you do not know it.  And even though you do not know, you act upon your faith (that is absolutely necessary for true faith).

But you don’t know.  You don’t always know what might happen to you when you do the things that your faith requires of you.  You may lose friends, you may “lose” 10% of your income, you may lose your life.  You are uncertain because you don’t know what the consequences of your faithful actions might be.  Ultimately, you do believe they’ll be good, but until you reach the final judgement, you might have to suffer every day for acting upon what you believe.

And you do it anyway.   You step out into the darkness, a few steps ahead of the light, believing and hoping the light will follow.  Doubt might be too strong a word, but uncertainty isn’t.

Faith is acting with hope in the face of uncertainty.