This Tiny Acre

By Megan

I’ve been struggling lately with a feeling I’ve been unable define, but this week, after a few heart-to-hearts with my very best friend, I’ve come to the conclusion that this ache in my soul boils down to one of insignificance.

All around me it seems, the world and the people in it work and produce and progress and change and grow and succeed. Meanwhile, I’m at home, where each day matches perfectly the one before it, except for a slight change in the pattern of juice drops on the carpet. I wake, I feed, I clean up and change diapers, I pick-up and put away, I wipe and wipe and wipe and wash and wash and wash. I rock and sing, I kiss and cuddle and fold, fold, fold, fold, fold. I nurse and read and tuck and then collapse to do it all again with only a variation in rhythm, starting as the sun rises on the next day. The world flies past my window on its way to the future and I stand looking out at it with a baby on my hip and a sticky dish rag in my hand. Tomorrow I will do the same.

And this, as Al often reminds me, is exactly what I wanted to do. This, my sister chuckles back at me, is why I felt jealous of her 8 years ago. This is the life of a stay-at-home mother, the one I greatly feared I’d never have. I am blessed beyond measure to be where I am. Yet, It is only a season, other mothers of little children and I chant to one another as we watch a constant stream of fabulousness and motivation and success flow past us – a current of What We Are Not, But Should We Be? tugging at us from beneath its bubbly, sparkling surface.

I don’t wonder why I ever wanted children. I look at my two and I know the why unquestioningly. What they bring to me is immeasurable. It’s the What I Bring to Them that sometimes feels unmeasured. The things I’m NOT doing right now pile up, boil over, bang at the front door and blink at me from my computer screen – impossible to overlook.

The horizons of this life, when I’m able to look up and gaze into their distance, gleam with shining cities of learning and contribution and value and meaning, while here, on my tiny acre of maternal life, the things I DO do each day get wiped away at dusk with the globs of grape jelly on the kitchen table.

I know that I am lucky to be here, but is here feeling the impact of me? I wonder on occasion to myself, where do I look to find the value of this labor? How can/should I measure my progress each day?

I don’t have an answer that will permanently affix itself to my wondering mind. I know, I believe, yes, that in the end my children’s lives will speak value and significance into what I’m doing today. And the smiles, the laughs, the peaceful sighs remind me very simply and very momentarily that I’m theirs and they need me. These peel back for a moment the earthy, gritty everydayness to reveal my lofty role in their lives.

But what do I tell myself, (what do you tell yourself?) here on this tiny acre, when the smiles and future promises don’t erase the yearning for significance now?

Megan also blogs at FriedOkra.