"It's Mother"

Learning from The Secret Garden

(If you haven’t read the book, please don’t read this, go read that instead!)

In the Garden

We were listening to The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett on the drive home:

"Who is coming in here?" he [Collin] said quickly. "Who is it?"

The door in the wall had been pushed gently open and a woman had entered. She had come in with the last line of their song and she had stood still listening and looking at them. With the ivy behind her, the sunlight drifting through the trees and dappling her long blue cloak, and her nice fresh face smiling across the greenery she was rather like a softly colored illustration in one of Colin's books. She had wonderful affectionate eyes which seemed to take everything in—all of them, even Ben Weatherstaff and the "creatures" and every flower that was in bloom. Unexpectedly as she had appeared, not one of them felt that she was an intruder at all. Dickon's eyes lighted like lamps.

"It's Mother—that's who it is!" he cried and he went across the grass at a run…

Susan Sowerby went round their garden with them and was told the whole story of it and shown every bush and tree which had come alive. Colin walked on one side of her and Mary on the other. Each of them kept looking up at her comfortable rosy face, secretly curious about the delightful feeling she gave them—a sort of warm, supported feeling…”

And that’s were I felt that little choking feeling in my throat, the feeling of a sudden rush of emotion. 

“It’s mother” 

The power and influence and wonder of what it means to be “mother” suddenly washed over me as I listened to the description of this woman. The power of one woman to shape lives. 

In the day to day “drudgery” (except that of course we shouldn't think of it as drudgery I know) that motherhood can become- the washing of the constant stream of clothes, the preparation & clean up of meals (plus snacks so that’s like 10 meals a day right?), the constant requests, decision making, sibling squabbles, etc. it’s so hard to remember the incredible importance of what we are doing. But this children’s book helped me remember.

A few minutes later the little choke of emotion threatened to turn into an all out flood...

“Susan Sowerby got up at last to return to the house… It was time for Colin to be wheeled back also. But before he got into his chair he stood quite close to Susan and fixed his eyes on her with a kind of bewildered adoration and he suddenly caught hold of the fold of her blue cloak and held it fast.

"You are just what I—what I wanted," he said. "I wish you were my mother—as well as Dickon’s!""

“You are just what I wanted.”

Our children may not think of it, but if they did isn’t that what they'd say? If they had the wisdom and understanding of the world wouldn’t they want us, just us, in all our imperfections?

Susan Sowerby, plain old Yorkshire, mother of 12 (12!!!) with very little, if any, formal education…I never saw it before. I’ve read this book so many times and I never saw who the true hero, rather heroin is until today.

“It’s Mother”!!!

That’s when I was glad for my sunglasses to hide the tears so I didn’t need to explain to the kid’s just then.

Without Susan Sowerby (why the author gave this great literary woman a name that starts with “sour” I do not know, except maybe to show that the greatest among us don’t necessarily have great sounding names), without her this story would not have gone well. This character is seen herself so little in the dialogue that she’s not even included in the movie adaptations! (at least not the ones I’ve seen). Yet without her who would have mentioned to Lord Craven that he should see Mary and let her run in the gardens free of a governess so that she could discover the great Secret? What motivation would Mary have had for going out of doors if dirt poor Mrs. Sowerby didn’t scrape the money together to buy the child a skipping rope? Would Dickon have been the boy he was and played so great a part if Susan had not been his mother? She was such a woman that even Lord Craven listened to her advice, and the housekeeper of the great house listened to her and considered her a friend. How would the children have kept their secret and grown so healthy without the simple, healthy food Susan helped provide? And who but that simple, wise woman would have had the boldness to write the letter that prompted Lord Craven to come home?

What a powerful part she played. So powerful that it’s hardly noticed. It was just her few wise words and thoughtful actions that shaped the lives of so many.

I know, it’s only children’s literature, but it’s great literature. And this part is true. Mothers are powerful and beautiful and we cannot forget. We cannot forget our influence and our importance. We cannot grow weary of the day-to-day “drudgery” (I know I have to find a better word).

I want to be a “Susan Sowerby”. 

I want to be the mother my children always wanted.

I’m humbled, overwhelmed and so thankful to be

Mother.

What You do Daily {printable}

The beginning of a new year

2016

For me, also the beginning of a new year of life.

My birthday month & a brand new 12 months waiting to be lived-

must be time for planning

and dreaming

and writing it all down.

I love planning.

When I start to feel grumpy it’s probably time for some writing & dreaming & planning. That’s how my thoughts get processed, the emotions get untangled so I can see what the thinking is behind the feeling. So I can remember what’s important and take stock of my life to see if I’m on the right path, to check on my baby steps and see if I’m baby-stepping in the direction I want to go. 

The thing with baby steps is, they will get you where you want to go as long as you keep pointed in the right direction.

Last year I came across a blogpost about daily reading rituals by Laura Vanderkam. The very first sentence grabbed my attention. The article was good, but it was that one sentence that wouldn’t turn lose of my brain.

“What we do daily has a profound effect on our lives.”

I started thinking about what the things were that if I did them daily would have the profound effect I wanted. What daily tasks would baby step me in the direction I wanted to go? 

I dreamed about my life for a while, what I wanted it to look like. Then

I made a list.

& of course I needed to be able to see that list everyday so I typed it up in PicMonkey so I could make it something I wanted to look at everyday & this is the result:

{I just printed it out on regular paper & hung it up on a clipboard.}

I wrote & typed up my list not only for myself but also with the consciousness {& hope} that my children might soak up some of the daily habits of profound effect, either by seeing the list or by watching me. Because as a parent {or as a human} growing & pursuing my purpose is bigger than just me.

You are welcome to use my list,

but I do think there is something very important about the process of thinking about what we want in our individual lives,

dreaming,

planning,

making a list.

I think we all have our own lists to make.

Feel free to use mine as a starting place if you like.

It’s just that time of the year ya know. Re-thinking life & plans & 12 fresh months waiting for action. 

Honestly, I need to do this way more often than once a year,

daily probably. 

:)

Compassion, Part 2

{Part One here}

Part Two

My relationships with my children are built on every encounter. If I want them to snuggle with me and open their souls to me in the evenings, then I must show patience & compassion throughout the day.

Every encounter. Even the irritating ones.

Compassion, Part 1

Compassion comes easily sometimes. Little one gets knocked down, it’s easy to take her into my arms and give comfort. Unkind words from a peer hurt one of my children and I provide a refuge for healing.

That compassion is not hard.

The hard compassion comes in different circumstances.

Stop the Mind-List... And Pray.

Prayer. It’s so vital to my life, my life as a believer in Jesus the Son of God.

At times, prayer flows naturally, so it seems even to require no conscious thought.

At other times, it seems impossible. I try to pray. I fail.

I try to pray as though I’m talking to my heavenly Father, not just giving Him a list of things I would like Him to do for me, but a conversation. Being aware of Who I’m talking to and the implications of that. Being aware that I’m not the only one a part of this conversation.

And do you know what seems to be my biggest obstacle at those times?

Back to the Beginning

{I almost shut the book and toss it aside.
I’m literally on the verge of tears.}

Somehow I had gotten up early enough to read that morning.
[Everyone must have been sleeping late.]
It was the end of the Christmas season. Two out-of-town trips in addition to all the busyness that accompanies that wonderful time-of-the-year had left me feeling exhausted, overwhelmed.

And I was behind in the reading for our ladies book study. Sigh, no surprise there.

I’m sitting there trying to read as fast as I can, with some comprehension while waiting for the caffeine to kick in, surrounded by a home in disarray- kitchen not finished from the night before, laundry waiting to be folded & put away (as usual), decorations, new toys, gift wrap, suitcases and all manner of items NOT where they are supposed to be. 

And what am I reading about?

Keep it shut

I had given in to the incessant whinings for water. For a while I stood firm saying “No, with your upset stomach you need to wait to have even water.” I finally gave in though to the almost constant moans for water that I could hear in the midst of all the regular morning noises. It was thrown up almost immediately, right on the carpet. I’m sorry to say I did not just keep it shut. My mouth that is. I gave in to the temptation to let off steam by way of my mouth. It’s such a simple way to keep negativity out of my home, to just keep it shut- why is it so hard? I’m afraid I said something smart-mouthy to the effect of  “Oh, so mommy does know best after all?” Imagine that said with sarcasm along with a sigh and a look of irritation as I went to clean up. Yuck. By yuck, I mean my reaction, not the mess.