a few weeks ago, my friend maryann reminded me of this wonderful quotation about motherhood and ministry, found in the equally wonderful book listening for god by renita weems. i think it can be easily stretched to speak to all mothers who are modifying and trying to integrate their visions of vocation and motherhood. i forgot to breathe while i was reading these words: 

“i will never be the writer i would have been had i not become a mother. nor will i be the minister or professor i could have been if i hadn’t had to suffer the interruptions of a sulking child or the vibes of a brooding husband transmitted under the door of my study. i give up writing the book i might have written or the sermon i might have preached every time i wander out of my study and follow the smell of popcorn wafting in the air, follow it in to the family room, where the rest of the family is watching the lion king for the forty-second time. i’ll never be able to recapture the fine sentences swirling in my head, or the fresh revelations that were about to lay hold of me. but for the joy of getting down on the cold hardwood floor and singing, “hakuna matata,” i’ll settle for bits and pieces of revelation god sends my way, and see what, if anything, i can make of them when i can. because today is today, and that’s all i have.”

and now, in light of a restless night with the bird and the inevitable morning-after fog that now surrounds me, i’m going to “wander out of my study,” as renita writes. happy thursday!

and p.s. renita still managed to be a wonderful professor. i was lucky enough to have her for hebrew bible at vanderbilt.

[the source for this post can be found on the bibliography page located in the sidebar to your right.]

when i was in divinity school, i was surrounded by people who had very specific callings. some knew they would be working as chaplains in prisons. others  were going on to work in public policy. one of my favorite colleagues was dead set (pun intended) on entering the field of thanatology.

because my husband’s job ties us to memphis, my vocational narrative has always been a bit different. out of necessity, my calling has always been to find meaningful work in ways that  fit well within the parameters of meaningful family life. luckily, i don’t have the slightest predisposition toward teaching snow skiing in colorado or studying the chestnut blight in appalachia. the field of ministry is, itself, a vast city with major thoroughfares and meandering back roads. somehow, i have always known that the backroads are my place.

after the monkey was born, i gave up the traveling supply preaching gigs and the late-night college chaplaincy commitments. i traded these things for a regular preaching gig in a nearby church and the chance to lead several weekday morning study groups. when the bird was born, i cut back on the preaching even more but started this blog and increased the number of other commitments such as weddings, funerals and baptisms. all the while, i have been thankful for a vocation that can take on so many forms.

but somewhere along the way, in trading the risky thrill of writing on a sunday morning deadline for the even pace of study-group-prep, i have sacrificed some things that i am good at. and, in so doing, i have sacrificed some of the meaning. but i don’t know how to restore meaning to my vocation without taking away from the meaning of family life.

so i’m trying something new. i have removed myself from some major, long-standing work commitments, AND i am not going to fill this time immediately with other work commitments.  i am uncomfortable with empty space, and saying no, and the long rambling answer i give people when they ask if i work outside of the home. but for the first time in a long time, i’m beginning to get that old divinity school feeling back — that blind sort of trust that meaningful work will present itself if i am open and patient.

i guess, in a sense, i am returning to my place in the world: the indirect but infinitely interesting back roads.

[this one is for katie in sunny california. all quotation sources can be found by clicking on the bibligraphy page in the sidebar.]

early in my parenting career i accidentally wandered onto the battlefield where working moms and stay-at-home moms go to embed their insecurities in the condemnation of each other. funny — i just thought i was taking my kid to the playground. i was hoisting my little monkey into the swing when i had my first encounter. before she ever even learned my name, a fellow mother asked me if i stay at home full time (and strangely, whether or not i know how to knit). i was nobody until was grouped into one of two categories: that of the working mothers who don’t care about their kids, and that of the stay-at-home moms whose brains are mushy and full of cobwebs.

here is but one arrow in the quiver of the stay-at-home mother:

“whose life was ‘worth’ more — the mother’s or the child’s?… if a woman ’chose’ to work, she was doing so at the ‘expense’ of her child” (warner 2005, 117-118).

the working mother might load her cannon with this:

“studies have never shown that total immersion in motherhood makes mothers happy or does their children any good. on the contrary, studies have shown that  mothers who are able to make a life for themselves tend to be happy and to make their children happy. the self-fulfillment they get from a well-rounded life actually makes them more emotionally available for their children — in part because they’re less needy” (warner 2005, 133).

my old marriage and family textbook explains that happy, satisfied mothers are more able to raise happy, satisfied children. it is not whether one stays at home or works outside of the home that relates to the health of her children. rather, a mother’s feelings about how she spends her days are more directly linked to her children’s well-being (kaplan 1998, 134).

the funny thing about this situation is that, if what my textbook says is true (and i believe it is), then these disparaging playground conversations undermine a mother’s happiness and by proxy, the happiness of her children. the mommy wars themselves are the problem, not the vocational choices we make.

so let’s quit this already! the next time someone hears how you spend your days and concludes that you are either heartless or brainless, just tell her to go to her room! if we’re going to ask our kids to play fair, we’re going to have to start heeding our own advice. let’s at least learn each other’s names before we pick teams.