Words Worth Repeating: The Mission of Motherhood

Sonya Hemmings — Sun, 09 May 2010 13:00:23 +0000

Here’s another installment of Words Worth Repeating, a series of posts that allow me to share some meaningful thoughts, ideas and quotations from whatever I happen to be reading at the time. The words repeated here speak into my life, and I hope to convey their personal significance in such a way that they’ll be every bit as poignant to those who see them here.

Last year, my friend Kelly was kind enough to lend me her copies of two books by Sally Clarkson: The Mission of Motherhood and The Ministry of Motherhood. I found much encouragement and inspiration in the pages of these books, authored by a fellow homeschooling mom of four who so eloquently captures the struggles and challenges of the life I am striving to live—and who also offers incredible encouragement and inspiration for rising to the occasion. In honor of Mother’s Day, I thought I would share one of my favorite quotations from The Mission of Motherhood:

“Children do not accidentally become mature adults of strong character, great faith, gracious relational skills, effective leadership qualities, and sharp intellects. God’s design includes the presence of a hands-on gardener, a mother, to tend and cultivate their hearts, souls, minds, and relationships. As a garden cannot flourish without a gardener, neither can a child reach his or her potential without someone committed to careful cultivation. Just as a garden without a gardener will eventually go to seed and be covered over with weeds and debris, a child whose growth is unsupervised or left to chance will likely grow wild and undisciplined or stunted and unfruitful. Seeing myself as a gardener is helpful to me as I think of my mission as a mother. After all, I want more for my children than just getting them to adulthood. I want them to thrive. I want them to grow up confident and civilized. I want them prepared to live as abundantly as possible.”

Some days—especially those that are overflowing with the details and duties that seem to consume so much of our time as mothers—this bigger picture is hard to see. (As I write this, I am simultaneously chasing down a toddler with a fever and a runny nose, preparing to cuddle him on my lap for some stories.) But for me, this bigger picture is exactly what makes the endless list of little things worth tackling. Happy Mother’s Day—and happy “gardening.”

Please note: It is my goal to provide a top-quality, content-driven, ad-free blog. That said, I do occasionally include affiliate links in some of my posts. For example, if you click on the book cover above, you will link to Amazon.com, where you will have an opportunity to purchase it—and if you do buy it after clicking through from my site, I will receive a small commission to support my work here, as well as my own book-buying habit. Seriously, though, I’d be just as happy if my recommendations inspired you to check out the title from your local library or borrow it (as I did) from a friend.

Words Worth Repeating

Sonya Hemmings — Thu, 06 May 2010 00:24:17 +0000

For awhile now, I’ve wanted to come up with a regular post that allows me to share some meaningful thoughts, ideas and quotations from whatever I happen to be reading at the time—whether it’s a novel, a memoir, a cookbook, a magazine article or anything else that catches my eye. These words will, of necessity, need to speak into my life—or, at least, a particular moment of my life—to be deemed worthy of repeating. And it’s my hope that in addition to the actual words, I’ll be able to effectively convey their personal significance in such a way that they’ll be every bit as poignant to those who see them here.

This first Words Worth Repeating post was inspired by an unlikely source—at least one that came as a surprise to me. On the recommendation of a fellow reader I met at a children’s birthday party last weekend, I picked up a novel at the library titled The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein. The book—about an aspiring race-car driver and his young family, and entirely narrated from the perspective of his dog—is probably not something I’d have chosen on my own. I’ve learned from experience, though, that sometimes such books make the best reads. Besides, I was intrigued by the idea of a story told from a dog’s perspective—especially because our family recently adopted our first canine member, a blue heeler named Sweetie. The framework constructed by the book’s personal story helped ease me into the world of car-racing and its history and heroes. (Outside of my youngest son’s obsession with the Disney movie Cars—which I’ve almost memorized, thanks to his daily viewing of it—I knew next to nothing about this world.) Without giving too much of the story away, I’ll say that Enzo—the dog who tells the story and who is named, of course, for Italian race-car driver and designer Enzo Ferrari—holds out hope that one day that he’ll be reincarnated as a human so that he can speak about all that he sees and knows with the words that are beyond the limitations of his canine abilities to communicate. He is a witness to tragic circumstances that threaten the family he loves, including the affliction of his master’s wife, Eve, with brain cancer. When Eve orchestrates a celebration to mark the fact that she lives beyond the “six to eight months” the doctors give her, Enzo thinks,

“To live every day as if it had been stolen from death, that is how I would like to live. To feel the joy of life, as Eve felt the joy of life. To separate oneself from the burden, the angst, the anguish that we all encounter every day. To say I am alive, I am wonderful, I am. I am. That is something to aspire to. When I am a person, that is how I will live my life.”

What made this particular quotation—and the story behind it—stand out to me is that I have lately seen my share of friends handling health crises (including a brain tumor) with such amazing grace and a determination to “feel the joy of life” despite their pain and fear. They inspire me to repeat alongside them especially that last sentence—only without the dog Enzo’s qualifying “When”: “I am a person, [and] that is how I will live my life.”

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Words Worth Repeating: The Mission of Motherhood

Words Worth Repeating