Some reflections on motherhood . . .

. . . and oh, yeah, about our week. (I'll probably address the latter first, for those readers with short attention spans).

We don't have a lot to report that will be of interest to our readers. Dan celebrated his second conference of the month (luckily, this one was in Salt Lake and required no overnight trips) by getting up to campus before 7 to catch a ride up to the conference. This wouldn't have been too bad, except that it meant we had to wake Evelyn up to load the kids in the car, and the fact that Evelyn had been up 5 times between 6:30 p.m. and 6:30 a.m. (We think she's working on another ear infection).

This week has also been a busy one for me: we're interviewing prospective Writing Fellows for fall semester, and we have upwards of 50 candidates this semester (for approximately 20 spots).
While I don't have to do every interview (there are five members of our office staff and we do the interviews in pairs), I have spent a fair amount of time on campus this week, and a lot of time outside of that reviewing applications. It's been rewarding in a lot of ways: it's fun to meet so many bright young people. It also, sometimes, makes me a little sad, since I know that we won't be able to hire all of the students who are qualified. (And sadder still, knowing that I won't be around to work with those who do make the cut!). And in a few cases, the interviewing process brings out a curious streak in me: in the case of a few clearly over-confident students, I find myself mentally reviewing my own qualifications at that age and forcible suppressing the urge to explain to these few students why it is that I'm not impressed by them. In a handful of cases, though, I have been genuinely awed by the caliber of student that our program has attracted.

I know I've written a little bit before about some of my personal fears about moving, particularly the uncertainty about finding my place. But I've been doing some thinking lately, and I really think it comes down to some fundamental things I need to change about the way I think about motherhood. (Disclaimer: I should note that most of what I am about to write pertains specifically to me--it is in no means meant as a judgment of other mothers, many of whom grapple with the challenge of motherhood far better than I do. And I suppose I should also add that this post is partly an exercise in self-indulgence for me, an opportunity to write out coherently some things I have been thinking about with less coherence, and an opportunity to record what have been for me some fairly meaningful insights--what Elder Bednar has called "tender mercies of the Lord.")

When I think about leaving, in the midst of all the excitement that Dan has found a wonderful job and the prospect of owning our own home, there are two flies in my ointment. The first is having to leave a group of students that I really have come to care a lot about. (I'm pretty sure at some point this will entail crying on my part--it hasn't yet, but I think that's only a matter of time). The second one is a little more troubling: I think that subconsciously I fear that I'll never again find a position that offers me the same kind of intellectual stimulation and joy that this teaching/coordinating position has. There are two problems with this, both of which have to do with a lack of faith and understanding on my part.

First, this belief fails to acknowledge God's role in directing my life. If I believe (as I do) that I was led to this position in the first place, what leads me to believe that God will not similarly lead me in the future? The April Ensign has a wonderful article by Elder and Sister Oaks on the topic of education; in it, Elder Oaks quotes President Eyring: "The Lord knows both what He will need you to do and what you will need to know. He is kind and He is all-knowing. So you can with confidence expect that He has prepared opportunities for you to learn in preparation for the service you will give." To me, this means that I can (and should!) trust God to put me in places that will not only maximize my abilities to learn, but to maximize my abilities to serve, providing that I am humble enough to let him do so. Rather than seeing this current position as the end of my opportunities (which is silly, seen in black and white type), I should see it as perhaps the beginning of my training for future positions that God has in mind for me. (This principle means letting go of certainties and entering into uncertainties--but isn't that what faith is essentially about? The fact that I'm not very good at dealing with uncertainties certainly should not prevent me from trying.)

But the second problem with my fear (and the one that I really want to focus on here) is that it also seems to assume that the real work I am trying to do--to mother my children--is not challenging enough. Or perhaps I should clarify, is not *intellectually* challenging enough. (Motherhood is certainly challenging--some days it requires all of my physical and emotional effort, and even that doesn't seem to be enough!) But I think this belief is faulty: I think it really stems from a misunderstanding (on my part) of what motherhood really is. We are told in the Church that motherhood and fatherhood are the highest callings that any of us can have. If this is true, then it should follow that these are also the callings that will require the best and deepest efforts we can give. In the Marriage and Family Relations manual (and, perhaps not so coincidentally, in the lesson we studied today), Elder Holland talks about the importance of motherhood. He cites a letter from a young mother, who was struggling on three fronts: feeling she didn't "measure up" to the model of motherhood portrayed in idealistic church talks; feeling that the world in general expected her to raise miraculously brilliant children; and feeling patronized by many who failed to recognize the "mental investment, the spiritual and emotional exertion, the long-night, long-day stretched-to-the limit demands that sometimes are required in trying to be and wanting to be the mother God hopes she will be" (manual p. 44). When I read this, I was also reminded of a story I read on lds.org a while ago, about a woman who, like me, had some experience with a career before she gave it up to have children. She found that, contrary to her expectations, motherhood required an intellectual commitment on her part above and beyond anything her career had demanded--but at the same time, motherhood also provided surpassing fulfillment.

It's not that I don't think motherhood is important; I do. It's that I think I sometimes fail to appreciate motherhood's capacity for creativity, intelligence, and tenacity. Reading these talks provided me with a much needed reminder that I do NOT need to somehow stifle my talents in raising my children; rather, done right, raising my children should amplify those talents beyond (I hope) what I am currently capable of. I know this sounds idealistic--but I'm not so naive as to think there won't be days that are exhausting and mind-numbing. My mom likes to remind me of days she spent as young mother where she had to remind herself who she was, that she had a master's degree, that she had some identity beyond "mommy." But what I'm hoping--trusting--is that the overall journey will be worth it. This week, in our interviews, I interviewed a young man whose family I know somewhat (I was at school with two of his sisters; another brother was in my mission). He comes from a family of eleven children, almost all of whom were presidential scholars at BYU. I couldn't help but reflect that his outstanding resume (and it was outstanding) was in large part a tribute to a mother who put significant time and resources into his education.

What all of this means, I suppose (besides a very long post!), is that I am still learning about who I am and what kind of woman (and mother) God wants me to be! But also that I'm slowly becoming more reconciled to change. And besides, who wouldn't want to spend more time with these?




Just one note of explanation: Evelyn has started doing this funny squinty look where she wrinkles up her nose and tosses her head. I've seen her brother do it hundreds of times, but on her it's acquired her own unique twist. I've been trying to catch the look on camera and this is the closest I've come so far.