When Mothering Littles Feel Little

Back in December I decided that rather than a New Years Resolution this year, I’d select one word to focus on. I chose act.

It’s a good word.

But I think it gave me delusions of grandeur.

Though I’m quite the opposite of an on the go all the time girl, I’ve somehow caught a bit of the wanderlust bug. I’m yearning for the big and the exciting.

I’m not sure it’s really so much that I want to go to all the places and see all the things.  I think it really boils down to this…my soul longs for significance.

I want my story to matter.

And it’s easy to feel that the stories of the people who are going and doing big exciting things matter more than my quiet little story, here in our quiet little neighborhood, raising three quiet brave little girls.

It turns out that this year hasn’t held very many big actions. It’s mostly been lots of the daily, unglamorous, little, tiny actions. Motherhood can be that way, after all.

Many of my friends are at Alive 2015 in Nashville right now, and I really need to just stay off of Facebook and Instagram for a few days because if I see one more picture of the great time they’re having, and the whimsical details of the set-up at the conference, and all the great stuff that’s happening there…I might cry.

I couldn’t go. Smiles still needs me to nurse her to sleep at night, I can’t leave her for three days right now. And I know that if I just went anyway and left her here it wouldn’t settle well with me.

The fun and exciting choice wasn’t the right one for me.

The main plotline in my story right now is mothering my littles. And that means making some sacrifices. It means that rather than gallivanting off somewhere exciting with Misteris to celebrate our 10th Anniversary in May, we’ll celebrate here. It means that rather than attend an entire five day book-lovers/writers conference complete with social events until Midnight each night, I’ll attend the nine-to-five portion of one day.

If I dwell too much on the sacrifices, this season can start to feel so hard. I can forget that it’s also important. It reminds me a bit of a certain chapter in the book I wrote (yes, I’m about to quote my own words, whatever).

“But I didn’t do anything,” I cry.

Elle pulls me close and whispers, “In the face of doing something big and glamorous and heroic feeling, you made the harder choice…you brought your friends home.”

My story may not matter much to the world. But it does matter to my littles. The little things are big to them right now.

When I teach Artist to play a new game  for ages 8 and up and she mops the floor with me, she gains confidence in her ability to tackle new things (and when she loses, she learns to handle disappointment). When Boo comes to me in tears because her tender-heart was broken by someone’s harsh words and I hold her as long as she needs and wipe her tears and read her a story till she feels better, she’s able to go back out and face an uncertain world knowing she always has a safe place to come back to. When Smiles nurses to sleep in my lap and then snuggles into me and dreams sweet dreams in my arms…well, then I  remember these precious moments are beautiful and fleeting and I’d rather be here snuggling my baby than anywhere else in the world.

So I kiss her head and keep holding her close. I pray for my brave girls, that they will each run their race and that I will succeed in doing my part to prepare them. I know that God has amazing plans for each of their lives, and I’m blessed to get to be such a big part of that right now.

Maybe my story with be “bigger” as far as the world is concerned later. I do hope there are grand and exciting things ahead of me. But in these moments of wanderlust and feeling a bit boring and insignificant, I rest in the assurance that quietly, one little act at a time, I’m changing the world…or at least the worlds of my three girls. 🙂