knowing your purpose :: it all matters.
Editor's Note: during the month of June, members of my Story Sessions community will be posting about what it means to pursue dreams, engage in self-care and practice active boundaries. They had free reign on what they wrote, and the topics come from my 30 Days of Prompts. I'm so excited about the wisdom these ladies will share with you, and I know you'll be inspired.
xoxo,
Elora Nicole
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Dear Mother of little ones who wonders if it matters,
It does. All of it. You do. In fact, I believe nothing else on earth has a greater purpose than you. Don’t roll your eyes. I’m serious. You there, exhausted and hurried, wondering how you made it through the day (or maybe what day it even is), I’m talking to you.
Everything you do teaches, corrects, reinforces, guides, and cultivates. In fact, even the things you don’t do teach, reinforce and cultivate. See, you can’t even help how much purpose you have-even just by existing.
Everything you say sows a seed (whether you want it to or not). The words you speak to your spouse, the stranger in the grocery store and most especially, the words you say to yourself- send a message of human worth to that little two-foot-person in your life. She hears you. In fact, what you say and how you say it will become her inner voice all the days of her life.
Your response to cries in the night, lost passies, growling tummies, scraped knees and holes-punched-in-adolescent-walls will be the measuring stick he’ll use to evaluate his importance in the world. How you meet his little-boy needs can determine whether or not he’ll be able to meet the grown-man needs when it’s time, or even if he is able to care about anyone else’s.
Your goofy songs-about-nothing and wordless baby babble, nose to nose with a little face that changes every day, says, “I see you and you are something to be seen”.
And what about when you’re wrong? What about when you just. can’t. anymore? Well then, that little one learns how to say I’m sorry. How to say no. All about reality and honesty. How to set boundaries.
And what about the not-so-precious-moments in her life? The moments resulting in thrown hairbrushes or venomous words that sting your mom-heart? Well, sister those are the most important moments in her life masquerading as emotional torture. Most important because this is when you get to look her in the twelve-going-on-twenty year old eyes and say, “I love you, even now.” And then she’ll know the difference between real love and counterfeit.
So does it matter? Yes. If you’re a mom, every second has purpose.
The four hours of sleep a night.
The poopy diapers.
The snotty noses and bumped heads.
The mid-day pumping in a public restroom or seven-hundredth time you wash bottles.
It. All. Matters.
But, not to everyone. Your boss may not care about the twenty seconds of sleep you got just before the alarm went off. Your friends who are far from being parents of little ones (even if theirs are grown) may not get your insistence on always being home by seven p.m. to get baby girl to sleep. And your co-worker may never understand why you don’t call her niece you’ve met one time, to babysit.
They don’t understand the single threads. How it all matters.
And not, like, just a little. It will matter for generations. Because this little one who learns whether or not he is important, may have children of his own, or become an uncle or mentor or teach. And all those tiny fragile threads that mean nothing in and of their own existence will come together to serve a purpose greater than you ever realized.
So sometimes, we have to be okay being the only ones who really understand our purpose.
And my hope is that you would accept what I’m telling you. Not in a general, universal truth kind of way. In a very specific, personal kind of way. The kind that changes how you see that poopy diaper or seven-hundredth bottle. The kind of accepting that allows you to trust each individual seemingly insignificant thread to serve the tapestry’s greater, beautiful, purpose.
All my love to you.
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Erin began her life at her grandmother's house in West Texas, riding horses and searching for arrow heads. After surviving adolescence, she carved out a life in Austin where she married a photographer, gave-up on writing and recently started writing again. You can find more at A Peculiar Love, where she writes about our adoption journey and at Find Me In September where she writes when she's feeling brave.
