motherhood, like every enduring institution, has its catch phrases. currently, most of these phrases seem to pertain to the enterprise of juggling. real life conversations among moms rarely occur without references to “juggling it all,” “keeping all the balls in the air,” “dropping the ball, ” and my personal favorite,”running off and joining the circus.” wouldn’t it be fun to mingle with a group of women and take a tasty sip of your beverage every time someone described her life as the ongoing exercise of hurling people, commitments, expectations, and roles into the ever-loving sky?

but i must concede that the juggling metaphor is a good one. it encapsulates so much about motherhood: the overcommitment, the multi-tasking, the sense that part of it is an act (and one crazy enough to be circus-worthy), and the inherent and inevitable moments of failure.

here are two women’s descriptions of juggling. the first is by ayelet waldman, author of bad mother and harvard law classmate of barack obama:

“i know that someday my daughters will chart their own courses, they’ll make their own mistakes. they in their turn will have to figure out how to keep all those balls in the air, how to maneuver despite inevitable frustration and failure. but just as i burden my daughters with my expectations, i also try to remind them that jugglers invariably drop balls, and no matter the persistent criticism of the Bad Mother police, balls do bounce. whey they fall, all you need to do is pick them up and throw them back up on the air” (41).

and the second meditation on juggling comes to us with a dose of humor by way of the fabulous tina fey, in last night’s saturday night live monologue.

now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m headed off to join the circus.

[source for this post can be found on the bibliography page, located on the sidebar to your right. the image in this post is from http://www.horizonstructures.com/]

two summers ago i attended a women’s conference in montreat, north carolina. there, we examined and discussed the various and brillient ways in which women are making a difference in the world. i was inspired by talk of women who brought about peace in liberia, founded women’s shelters, and lived lives of compassion in calcutta. but i was also discouraged about the modesty of my own little life as a part-time minister and full time mother. i felt the urge to do something bigger and more important, and when i expressed this to the speaker in a forum full of conferees, i opened myself up to the following feedback that came to me from all directions for the rest of the week. it generally went something like this:

“you are young, and smart, and your life is full of potential for making a difference inside of your home and out in the world. your motherhood is every bit as important as your career; the effect you have on your children is equally as important as the effect you have as a minister. YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO IT ALL AT ONCE. there are seasons of your life that are spent largely at home, and there are seasons that can be spent engaging with the world one important project at a time. be patient. don’t get ahead of yourself. enjoy every season for the pleasures it brings and the good it allows you to do.”

this is really good advice, however cliche it has become. and i try to remember it when it feels like what i’m doing is too small, and when i’m trying to resist the urge to cram my already full life with preschool fundraisers, additional preaching gigs, ideations of elaborate dinner parties, books i want to write, et cetera.

at its worst, the seasons metaphor could lure women into satisfaction with lives that are too small. but for me, a constant crammer of too many activities into folds of time and space that are not built to hold them, the seasons metaphor serves its best purpose. it helps me to see the advantages of my current season, and it makes me want to embrace them for the short-lived gems that they are.

pictured in this post are eight seasons paintings i created for my dad for christmas ’09.