While making room in our bedroom closet for summer clothes (warmer weather must be coming eventually!), I came across a suit I used to wear frequently when my job involved meetings, deadlines, task forces, and supervision of an employee who actually did what I asked.
Charcoal gray. Pencil skirt. A classic look that doesn’t go out of style, right? Deciding to donate the suit, I laid it out on the bed.
I heard a crinkle. There was something in the left hand jacket pocket.
I pulled it out. A peppermint candy. A piece of my life long past. I popped it in my mouth…then I remembered just how old it was. It likely dated from the early weeks of my pregnancy with my first daughter, that exhausting first trimester when I stocked up on hard candy from our secretary and ate it all the way home each afternoon to keep myself awake during my 50 minute commute.
So much has changed at my former workplace. The state department I worked for has been reorganized beyond recognition. Almost none of my old co-workers are there yet. My boss of longest duration has retired. The sunny, fun-loving secretary who supplied everyone in the office with candy died of cancer several years ago.
So much has changed in my own life. I have undergone a complete reorganization. Of schedule. Of wardrobe. Of duties. Of priorities.
These days, my purse looks like this,
and my good shoes like this.
Though this transition certainly has been the happiest of my life, it’s also been one of the biggest, and, therefore, toughest.
Today, on Mother’s Day, I’m still feeling the growing pains.
I miss having a clean, orderly work space. I miss interaction with adults, and adult conversation. I miss doing primarily “brain work.” I miss being able to call in sick. I miss making my own schedule, and having things (for the most part) go according to plan.
Now, 98% of my work consists of manual labor. Now, a morning poop blowout in the tub can change the whole trajectory of the day. Now, instead of meetings with congenial (for the most part) adults, I’m coping with a three and a half year old who responds to every command with “I CAN’T!!!”
and a twenty month old who responds to every firm “No” with “Why not, Mommy??” (Yes, at 20 months. I am not kidding you. We’re in for a rough ride.)
Now I realize that I was a rank amateur at multitasking. And that in spite of learning to multitask as a survival skill, there simply isn’t any way at this job to get even half the “to-do’s” checked off by evening.
Is it fair to say that I’m still in a period of transition? Maybe acknowledging that I am is the only way to be fair to myself.
It’s a tough job. It’s a tough change. It’s an adjustment period that just might last, well, the rest of our lives. That doesn’t mean we don’t acknowledge how privileged we are. That doesn’t mean we aren’t very glad for this new role that God has given us. Our paths through life may seem to take many twists and turns, but He is the one directing our steps (Proverbs 16:9).
Our biggest job now is to raise the children whom He has placed under our care. Moses prayed a prayer long ago that serves us moms today: “Establish the work of our hands for us–yes, establish the work of our hands.” (Psalm 90:17)
It’s hard work. Our hands are busy and often tired. It’s a hard change. Our growing pains are real. God knows that, and He’s eager to encourage, equip and direct us. He knows that we need Him and He answers our prayers. Out of love for us and our little ones, He will bless the work of our hands, the work that He Himself has given us to do.
Happy Mother’s Day.
