Do we really want it all?

There's been a lot of talk in the news and blogosphere regarding women and the quest to have it all, sparked by the Atlantic Magazine article "Why women still can't have it all."  I've read along with interest as I've certainly been in the center of that struggle.  I grew up knowing I would be a working mom.  Having both a career and a family were important to me...equally important.  I saw how my mother, a single parent, struggled to get by, working multiple menial jobs that she hated just to provide the basics.  I know that she wanted desperately just to be able to quit and spend more time at home with me.  I know that she must have had many dreams that she sacrificed (although I was too selfish to ask about them).

I worked hard, too, in my own ways to extract myself out of poverty's grasp, and get the education and job opportunities that were denied my mother.  I bought into the line that I could be anything I dreamed and do anything I wanted with my life.  I keep plugging along through my dream college and on to a master's degree, and picked up a husband and birthed two kids along the way.  I expected I would continue to get my doctorate and be famous for something one day.  Wasn't that the goal...to make something of myself?

But on the journey something began changing.  I think it was me (maybe my heart, or my ambition, or perhaps just my energy level).  Motherhood was hard.  Working was difficult.  Both were full-time endeavors and I could never seem to find that elusive balance. I'm one of the lucky ones, more fortunate than most in that I have the family I had hoped for, a job that allows me to be flexible with my hours, and a husband that does an equal share in the child-raising and household duties.  I took latter as a given when we pledged our lives to one another, but over time I've come to understand what a gift that is.  Even with all of our sharing, the back and forth nature of work and home was exhausting.  In the age-old story of working parents, when I was at work, I thought of all I should be doing at home, and vice versa.  With both my husband and me in ministry, the demands were high, the work was consuming, and everyone felt that they had a say in our personal life (like the congregation member that ironically said we shouldn't have a second child if we couldn't care for the first when my husband asked for a flex schedule to help with childcare needs).  I could not seem to adjust my (ridiculously high) standards, so every thing I let slide felt like failure.  The greatest stab in my heart was when one of my daughter's first (and most often repeated) sentences was, "You happy, mommy?"  No, I was not, and I couldn't understand why.  I had the dream...a good job that was also a calling, a supportive husband, two precocious and adorable children, financial security (for the first time ever)...what could possibly be missing (other than my own sense of gratitude)?

Perhaps rest.  And surrender.  And and understanding that what I had was enough.  There was no sense in fighting (myself) to become all society expected me to be.  When I read a blog by a big-name blogger, listened to a popular speaker, or talked to someone who had secured a book deal, the jealousy would flare up (and it still does, if I'm honest).  Why isn't that me??  I still have dreams to be known, and yet, as I look around me, I see that I am.  I am known by my family, I am accepted by my friends, I am noticed by my acquaintances.  But more than that, I am being made by God who knows and loves me as I am, but also has more dreams for me.  My creation is an on-going process, and the real dreams that I can accomplish are the ones that God plants within my heart.

At this stage in my life, I'm starting to find contentment in where I am.  I'm adjusting to a life that ebbs and flows with differing demands.  Sometimes home calls to me more (and I'm grateful to be able to focus my energy there), and sometimes work demands more of my energy (and I'm blessed by my husband who takes on even more of the responsibility at home).  Balance can be found, but it's not what I expected.  You can have it all, but maybe not at the same time (at least not in our current culture, as the Atlantic article and others suggest).  Perhaps that needs to change, and I hope I can be an advocate for other women who are finding their place.  But at this point in the journey, I'm glad to be where I am, at home in myself.

Other resources:

http://www.insidehighered.com/blogs/mama-phd/who-needs-it-all

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/on-parenting/post/is-can-we-have-it-all-still-a-relevant-question/2012/06/25/gJQAEwtx1V_blog.html

Age is more than a number

I sense its approach in the creaking of my joints, in the graying of my hair, in the lines and spots that creep across my skin, and in the veins that become more pronounced...the turning of the years, the relentless march of age.   I turned thirty-five recently, and although I realize that isn't really old, I can remember when my mom was my age, and at the time I thought that seemed ancient.  My mom appeared youthful then; her hair remained dark for many years and her smile was so bright for me, the joy of her life.  She was beautiful and creative and complex.  And I, of course, saw her only as a mother in the narrow confines of my life.  She was youthful until I compared her to the other mothers, and although she was superior in many ways, she was the oldest of those I knew.

Time flies, and I find myself standing in her place, a mother, and yet more.  A conflicting mix of desires, interests, fears, and demands on my time, my heart.  Fortunately, culture has shifted so that I'm not quite an older mom, and I know many women my age and older who are still waiting, debating, seeking, or avoiding motherhood and family obligations.  To my kids, though, 35 seems incredibly old (and there are days that they make me feel it, too).  In their demands and in their connection, I wonder how (if) they see me outside of the role of "mother".  I suppose that is not something they can or wish to grasp at this point, and to be honest, I continue to struggle to find "me" within (and outside of) all the diverging and changing labels.


They say that age is just a number, and sometimes I agree.  On regular days, it's quite a surprise to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wonder momentarily, "Who is that stranger?",  as the changes I observe on the outside don't match what I feel on the inside. Mostly, I still feel like that child waiting to grow up and for it all to feel real.  I smile with recollection as I speak with my college students because I can remember feeling similarly, can remember precisely the struggles and doubts and triumphs of early adulthood.  I don't long to repeat those years or see them as golden days; no, you couldn't pay me to go back to any earlier period in my life.  The gift of age, I guess, is the comfort you gain in your own skin (as loose as it becomes), the confidence in all the lessons learned (and seeing the beauty in the scars).


At 35, I feel that I'm finally finding my passion once again.  I have a job that I love and that I feel well suited for.  I've learned a lot (the hard way) over the past few years about letting go of my own need for control and trusting God (I'm still a work in progress).  I've relaxed enough to start enjoying my children more and to see them as the beautiful individuals that God has created them to be.  All of these are gifts.  With the gifts, however, also comes some grief.  To reach this point in life, there are also dreams that I have to let go of.  Although I hope to always continue growing and learning, some things are unlikely.  I will never be a prodigy at anything at this point.  It is doubtful that I will become famous (not that I would necessarily want to be), and extensive world travel seems dubious (although reaching the point of being able to take vacations is certainly a bonus).  There is always more that remains unknown than the little knowledge I carry inside me.  It seems encouraging to tell a child "you can be anything you want to be", and "you can do anything if you work hard enough" and yet that is not reality for most of us.  We have differing gifts, resources, and levels of dedication.  Part of maturity is understanding  who we are and committing to live that to the fullest.  It's accepting our reality, working to change what we can, and finding gratitude in the beauty of life as it is.  I'm taking steps in that direction and am so very grateful for this stage of my life and all the gifts that surround me.  



 While I don't feel anywhere near midlife, 35 is ushering in not so much a crisis but a more reflective (existential?) period.  Thoughts of age bring serious reflection and lingering questions about the legacy I'm creating.  My life continues speeding on, until one day, when it will suddenly stop.  How can my life make a difference for my family, those whom I serve, my community, and my world?   When my time is over, my name will be forgotten except for those whom I have loved and who have loved me in return.  What difference will I have made?  What dreams remain unrealized and which are attainable?  How is God calling me in this phase of life to continue, to surrender, and to dream new dreams?  What is ahead, and what do I need to be focusing on now?  I'm grateful for the gift of time to contemplate, for the ability and health to make choices, and for the reflection and gratitude that comes from age and experience.

I love this picture, of my grandmother and John's maternal grandparents 

together before our wedding  (John's grandfather has since passed away).  

I love their smiles, even as they are unaware of the picture being taken.  

I love the strength and confidence of the two women, the matriarchs of their families.

True Power

(photo courtesy of Tru Stevens, Truphotography © 2012)

I've been in the dark now for over six days since a freak windstorm blew its way through town and knocked out the power.  At various stages of this journey I've been frustrated, stressed, bitter, and resigned.  But the larger (better) part of me has been overwhelmed by the generosity, hospitality, and support from friends and acquaintances.  It's hard to feel powerless when I have so much gratitude for so many people.  From offers of housing, to use of laundry facilities and water, to those who have welcomed my family and my dog, to home cooked meals and meals out with friends, I've been surrounded by love.

Without fail, with every invitation to someone's home, there have been the warnings, "Now please overlook my mess.  Don't look downstairs!  Forgive my clutter..."  Maybe it's because they know I'm a neat-freak, or maybe it's just one of those things that people say as part of being hospitable--make yourself at home, be comfortable, don't worry about messing things up, this house is lived in.  But if they knew my gratitude, they wouldn't have to worry.

While my house was once neat (before the vacuum was incapacitated and the dog moved into the house, sending tumbleweed-like drifts of dog hair everywhere), that just showed a false exterior.  Inside (of me) is much messier.  The clutter of house items I can control; the clutter of my thoughts, the stains of my heart are much more difficult.  It's kind of like the story of the Pharisees when Jesus is chastising them for being so careful with purity laws and yet disregarding the heart of the matter:  

Matthew 23: 25 ‘Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! 
For you clean the outside of the cup and of the plate, but inside they are 
full of greed and self-indulgence. ²⁶You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside 
of the cup, so that the outside also may become clean.

27 ‘Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like 
whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside 
they are full of the bones of the dead and of all kinds of filth. ²⁸So you 
also on the outside look righteous to others, but inside you are full of 
hypocrisy and lawlessness.

My friends are teaching me the power of a heart that is clean and pure, one that reaches out to care for others in need.  It is not what is on the outside that counts, but what is within.  Through their words, their presences, their offerings, they are showing God's love and living through God's power working within them.

I hope that my electricity is back on soon, but even more, I hope to more fully experience the power of God's hospitality even more, living it out in my own heart, life, and home.