mom's musings

The Mothering

2012-01-29T10:48:00.000-08:00

The Mothering

by Gwendolyn Bennett Pappas

I watch her mothering
Her nest at the top of our tallest porch pillar is even with my bedroom window.
She carefully prepared for the arrival of her young and now, at a time soon come, she readies for their leaving.
Is it easier, I wonder, for bird-mothers?
I watch her chirp and flutter about, but for all this outward cheerfulness, I believe she is sad. See how she peers anxiously at her teetering babes? Holding back even as she lets go.
I know so well this holding and letting go and the hurting that is surely there beneath the feathers of her tiny chest.
She mothered well, hovering, protectingly, until each wetted wad of wing arched with strength enough to safely leave.
Yes, she taught them to be free of her, but how now to free herself of them?
They are eager to leave, it is right, of course, this eagerness and time for their adventuring, but even so she droops a little and her sheen is less in the bring orange sun.
She knew they would leave with a sureness borne of her own flight from another nest when she was just as young and eager.
She cautions with last minute chirps they do not hear, poor little mother, delaying them the only way she can and then for such a little.
She misses them even before they leave and knows they will not return--not really return--not ever.
They will fly past, even light at tip-toe edge but posed always to leave again, and this is not returning. Now it is a loved, familiar place, but soon it will be a twig and thread of memory with "home" somewhere else.

They do not know this but I am sure she does. Again the lights go out of her and her chirp is more a croon of early loneliness.
The good mother she is, she would not hold them if she could--their going just as much a part of life as their coming. The last part is much harder than the first, with greater pain than birthing.
Her young, in their excitement, do not see the shadow nor hear the different sound.
Her usual perky chirp is back now and busy-sounding: "Good-bye....God bless..take care..." These things I said with smile as bright as her call. Is she saying them?
Mother birds being mothers after all--the words are probably the same. Her little ones are gone. Her little ones, not little ones anymore, have flown beyond my eye to follow. She watches still as if the air that moved to take them from her will bring them back. It does not. She turns back to the emptied nest, searching for the babies near and needing, but that time is gone and there is only dull-colored thread and worn twig to remind. Her chirp is silent. No need now for gay pretense or lifted wing. She is alone and all the loneliness can show. Soon she will wonder, as even now I wonder and all mothers must sometimes wonder, was it ever? Did it really happen? Where they ever hers--so little and warm and needing--or was it all the most perfect dream the heart could design? Real or imagined, dreamed or not, a beautiful thing happened to her. Listen....it is there in her song.

British Medical Journal Urges Fewer Children

2008-08-29T22:37:00.000-07:00

This article from the Chicago Tribune last week caught my eye. When I showed the headlines to my boss, she blew it off as if this could never happen in a free society. This is not China talking with their one-child policy folks, this is Great Britain. With our government already funding abortion, it would be quite an easy step to enforce them.

"There are plenty of ways to cut your carbon footprint, whether it’s driving less or buying an energy-efficient refrigerator. But the British Medical Journal, in an editorial last month, urged a more controversial one: having fewer children.With 60 million people already living in one of the most densely populated countries in the world, the journal said, British couples should aim to have no more than two children as part of their contribution to worldwide efforts to reduce carbon emissions, stem climate change and ease demands on the world’s resources.Limiting family size is “the simplest and biggest contribution anyone can make to leaving a habitable planet for our grandchildren,” the editorial’s authors said.Family planning as a means to reduce climate change has been little talked about in international climate forums, largely because it is so politically sensitive. China’s leaders, however, regularly argue that their country should get emission reduction credits because of their one-child policy, and many environmentalists—and even a growing number of religious and ethics scholars—say the biblical command to “be fruitful and multiply” needs to be balanced against Scripture calling for stewardship of the Earth.Europe’s rates diving Increasingly, “a casual attitude toward global warming ought to be viewed as a sin,” argues James Nash, director of the Churches’ Center for Theology and Public Policy, a Washington-based research group that studies the relationship between Christian faith and public policy.The appeal to have fewer children sounds a bit odd in Europe, where one of the biggest worries these days is plunging birthrates. German women today bear an average of 1.3 children, fewer than women in China, where the one-child policy is fast weakening. Even British women are giving birth to just 1.9 children on average, a level below that needed to produce a stable population.But each child born in a rich country like Britain or the United States is likely to be responsible for 160 times as much carbon emitted as a child born in Ethiopia, said John Guillebaud, a British family-planning doctor, professor and one of the authors of the British Medical Journal editorial. With efforts to cut emissions likely to go only so far, cutting births may be the best option, he said.“We’re not Big Brother. We’re not for pushing people,” he insisted in an interview. “We just think deciding how big a family to have should take into consideration our descendants.”Reaching 9 billion by 2050At the current projected rates of growth, the world’s population, now at 6.7 billion, is expected to reach about 9 billion by 2050. Environmentalists argue that a population that large will dramatically overtax the world’s resources and lead to growing conflict as well as potentially crippling climate change, particularly as poorer parts of the world develop and begin using more resources.Most of the expected growth in population is projected to come in less-developed parts of the world, particularly Asia, where 60 percent of the world’s people live, and Africa, where birthrates are the highest in the world.Worldwide, population growth is declining, and even in much of Asia and Africa “the drop in fertility rate has been quite amazing,” said Werner Haug, director of the United Nations Population Fund’s technical division. Despite falling international investment in family planning, Thailand today has a European-like birthrate; Kenyan women, who once averaged eight children, are now having five.Overall, Asia’s birthrate, excluding China, is 2.8 children per woman, and Africa’s is 5.4—well down from the past, said Carl Haub of the Washington-based Population Reference Bureau, an independent organization that analyzes demographic data.Asia set for boom But because a birthrate above 2.1 children per couple -the approximate replacement level, allowing for some untimely deaths—will produce ever-expanding growth, even Asia is still set to “grow like wildfire,” Haub said.The problem is worst in places such as northern India, where literacy, education and access to birth control are poor and poverty levels and population numbers are already high. If those conditions continue, runaway growth could push India toward a population of 2 billion people, Haub said. Sub-Saharan Africa, at expected growth rates, is likely to nearly triple its population by 2050, also to about 2 billion people, he said.Even in the United States, birthrates, which had fallen to around 1.85 children per non-Hispanic white woman, are now about 2.1 children per U.S. couple, thanks to Hispanic migration.In a nation where Texas’ 23 million people account for more greenhouse gas emissions than all 720 million Sub-Saharan Africans, even small rates of U.S. population growth may have a disproportionate impact on global warming, said the UN’s Haug.Experts say the best way to cut the world’s birthrate is simply to push ahead with what has worked best in the past: education, access to information about birth-control options, and better health care to give parents confidence that children born will survive to adulthood.

The First Sign of Denial is Denial

2008-05-26T22:15:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I’m sick. While my friends and family have pretty much acknowledged and accepted this fact, I can live in denial most of the year. But twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall, I have a self-revelation that is pretty ugly and hard to ignore. Each of these seasons inspire me to dig out the boxes of clothing for the new season and I do the ritual cleaning out of my wardrobe and shoe closet. First of all, let me explain that in the spirit of sharing all things in our 35 year marriage, my husband and I share a walk-in closet. I use the word “share” pretty loosely as I have taken the liberty to use up a full 6 foot span of the closet and for reasons unbeknownst to me cannot, no matter how hard I try, squeeze one season’s worth of clothing into it. And then there’s the pile. I’ve got a stack of jeans that I can’t fit in stacked so high in the back of my closet that, if I were to lose a mere 10 lbs. and keep it off, I would never have to buy another pair in my lifetime. As for my husband, I’ve begrudgingly allowed him a 2-foot section in which to cram his modest three shirts and two pairs of pants. Good thing he’s not a clothes horse.

The far bigger issue however is trying to figure out what to do with my 41 pairs of shoes, most of which I can’t wear anymore now that I just bought a $300 pair of orthodics that will only fit in a pair of old lady’s shoes. But there is no way I’m ready to part with my little white leather slings, my blue iridescent flip flops, or my 3-inch dress heels. Afterall, orthodics or no orthodics, I do have some womanly dignity left, even if a protruding bunion and plantar fasciitis are bent on destroying any remaining trace of it.

My husband doesn’t have to worry about such things. Looking over to his little section of the closet, I see three pairs of shoes neatly lined up like birds on the telephone line. Brown casual, black dress, and white tennies. Ever so fleetingly, I sense some freedom in this simplicity. I wonder if I could live like that? Then from high on the shelf, the smart little red sandals I bought at the end of the summer sale last year catch my eyes, and I anticipate buying the perfect outfit to compliment them. And, its at that very precise moment that I know I’m sick, and probably incurable.

The Telling and Untelling

2007-02-09T21:22:00.001-08:00

A couple of years ago Jenny received a wedding invitation from a friend with whom she had attended college. A few weeks before the wedding, she received another letter from the girl's father explaining that the wedding was postponed. Not necessarily cancelled, but postponed because there were some issues that needed to be resolved before the couple married. I felt horrible for this young couple imagining the disappointment they must have felt, but it spoke volumes about the wisdom of the couple and their parents. The "untelling" of life events is a very difficult thing to do. While you are trying to deal with your own disappointment or embarrassment, you have the added emotional burden of dealing with those who are also disappointed, embarrassed or feeling sympathy for you. In a sense, while you are the one who needs comfort, you are put in a place of needing to comfort others. In the case of this wedding, the "untelling" of the planned wedding was necessary or they were going to have a whole bunch of guests show up at a wedding that wasn't going to take place.

But let me suggest that we do a bangup job of protecting ourselves emotionally from having to "untell" many of the events of our lives. It is much easier to keep our lives secret so that if there is any disappointment we won't have to tell anyone about it. We will bear the pain all by ourselves. No embarrassment, no need to share the disaapointment and heartache.

As Christians this attitude should not be part of our experience. We should pray for one another and bear one another's burdens. We are commanded to "rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep." There is no place for keeping all of our hurts to ourselves thinking we can patch it all up without the help of our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Many of you know that our daughter has experienced multiple miscarriages in the past couple of years. The reason why you know that is because many of you have lifted her up in prayer, with words of encouragement and tangible expressions of your love. I am so encouraged that Jessica and Justin were able to ask prayer for these babies in the very earliest of their days. While it would have been much easier to keep the news of their pregnancies and subsequent miscarriages to themselves, they chose not to. Each pregnancy was rejoiced over and each of these babies were mourned, as they rightly should be. Yes, the pain of the "untelling" must have been excruciating for them, but I am so glad that they know the love of the body of Christ which is meant to bear one another up in times just as these. The Apostle Paul spoke of this sharing in 2 Cor 1:2 "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort."

Jessica is now about 7 weeks pregnant. Please pray for her and the baby. And, if by God's will there is an "untelling" that needs to happen, we will be strengthened by your prayers and the knowledge that you will mourn with us. We pray for a healthy baby, and if God in His great mercy grants us this request, our rejoicing will be ever sweeter because we have shared the tears of sorrow and joy.

2006-10-02T19:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was National Life Chain Sunday, a silent protest agaisnt the atrocity of abortion. To our shame, 4,000 abortions occur in our country daily. So once a year I, along with other members of my church and a few others, stand on the sidewalk lining Hwy 99 with signs that say "Abortion Kills Children." How odd that one has to put that which is so obvious in print before passerbys. But, there is a blindness that has overtaken our nation so that the obvious is no longer obvious. What once was recognized as clear truth is now cloudy and obsecure taken hostage by situational ethics and sin. What once was a common understanding of right and wrong is no longer shared by the mass. The killing of children is taken on the same weight of any same day surgery. Nevermind the body parts that are disposed of--where?

The motorists pass by; some ignoring us with eyes fixed on the road straight ahead. Some express their hostility openly, and some give us the horn with thumbs up. Some go by and stare at us like we are animals in the zoo. They must wonder what kind of people are these that would waste such a beautiful Sunday afternoon when they could be up at the lake or taking a Sunday afteroon nap.

I wonder how much good it does holding the signs for all the passing world to see on a solitary October Sunday afteroon. That I will probably never know on this side of heaven. But I pray that those who drove by see common, ordinary people unafraid to hold up the truth that
"Abortion Kills Children."

Power Trip

2006-07-16T22:06:00.000-07:00

My job carries with it a lot of responsibility. I make many decisions, some of them pretty serious, such as who gets hired and who gets fired. I don't particularly like making those decisions and for some people, they might let such power go to their head. But that isn't what really gives me a sense of power. About once a year I am driven out of necessity to do spraying with a backback sprayer. Now, here is real power unleashed. What makes my spraying so heady is: 1. it has the power to kill, and 2. it is done by a very abstract-random person (me). Yesterday, I went to our old house to do some spraying. From the moment I started mixing the Round-up with the wetting agent I started feeling a little Kevorkian-like. I tried to get the backpack as full as possible so that I could kill as much as possible. Then comes the fun part--strapping that heavy, sloshing thing onto my back and picking up the wand of death. This is my chance to do war with part of the curse. I'm proud to say that I started out pretty strategically. I really had good intentions, but before I knew it, I was spraying here and there and everywhere. Ooops, sorry little flower, I really didn't mean to do that! Yikes, I wonder if I accidentally got some on that lovely pink rhoddie? I sure hope that my favorite yellow rose bush will bounce back after being baptized when the wand went wandering. Not sure if I had really got a good hit on things, I went back over everything--just in case.

Now comes the hard part. Waiting. Waiting to see, if what I really meant to kill got sprayed, and how much was obliterated accidentally. In a couple of days, I'll go by and see the damage. But, for now I'm basking in the power trip.

Giggles

2006-06-29T20:18:00.000-07:00

A month or so ago I blogged about my friend Leslie who was involved in a terrible car accident. Today I went to the care center to see her for the first time since the accident. There is a large scar on the right side of her nose/eye area. She is a bit groggy from all the pain medicine, but she is sitting up and talking, and to tell you the truth, Leslie has never looked better to me. I hugged her and kissed her and told her that I loved her. Words that I should have told her long ago..before the accident. I've always loved Leslie, and it is a shame that it took almost losing my good friend to make me say the words. Leslie has a giggle that is unique and one that makes you giggle back. Leslie isn't doing much giggling right now. A small smile is all she can squeak out, but I'll take it, and look forward to the day when the giggle returns.

Life is precious. I thank God for mercifully sparing her. The look of of relief on Dale's face tells me he is thinking the same thing.

Long Lost Relatives

2006-06-27T21:05:00.000-07:00

I've never been much of one to get into genealogy. Ashamedly, I'm not unlike most Americans who really aren't much interested in finding out about their ancestors. Why worry about people dead and gone? What really matters is our own generation. You know--the here and now. After all, it's all about me isn't it? Well, I do care about my kid's generation. And yes, I have grandchildren that I care about, and one day they will probably have children and I care about them and their children too. But really, I haven't seen too much point in looking back, and afterall, as Christians, we aren't to get hung up in "endless genealogies". When I have read over the genealogy in Matthew, there have been times I must confess that I have been guilty of skimming (read skipping) over much of it. But the Word says that all Scripture is profitable, and that includes the genealogies. In fact the genealogies show the faithfulness of God in sending the promised Messiah. They are rich with information.

Lately, I've been getting immersed in my own family's genealogy. About a month ago, out of the blue, I received a call from a shirttail relative who is doing some genealogy research on my mother's side of the family. She had contacted me about 8-9 years ago and was calling to update our family information. As we talked, she mentioned that my Uncle Dale (my mother's half brother), is still alive and resides over by the Oregon Coast. I was surprised as I thought all of my mother's siblings were deceased. She gave me his email address and that started some very interesting correspondence between the two of us. My Uncle Dale, now 88, is the last person on earth who can tell me something about my grandfather. I want to know about my grandfather. I think I saw him only once when I was three years old and I don't remember anything about him. Of course when I was younger I didn't have the sense to ask my mother or my other two uncles about him. My Uncle Dale has described my Grandfather Ray this way:

"He was 5 ft 11 inches tall and real slender. He weighed about 155 most of his life and loved pancakes and eggs with coffee for breakfast. Two of each every day. He had an orchard with apricots and he loved talking about when an apricot is good to eat. He also loved to spade up a garden every year and planted many vegetables . He liked going hunting with us boys but would never shoot any thing. He had a dry sense of humor and one time hunting Dad had about one beer too many and they were at the hunting camp and dad was standing by a tree and all of a sudden he said, "One thing about us Frenchmen, when we go down, we go down fighting!" and he simply sat down and fell awsleep by the tree. He liked a beer now and then but he couldn't handle more than two or three. He smoked a pipe and used a tobacco called Velvet. He kept it going just about all day and quite a bit a night in bed. Looking back it could have caused our house to burn down if he went to sleep with it going . He wore those bib overalls most of the time but once in awhile he would dress up with a shirt ,tie and regular trousers."

Maybe that doesn't sound so interesting to you...but it certainly is to me! I like knowing about my Grandpa. I've always had a penchant for apricots...especially for apricot jam..maybe that's where I got my taste for it!

But I have to tell you that my Great-Grandmother Ama is my hero. She was a very petite woman. It is told that my Great-Grandfather Silas chose to seek his fortune on a homestead in the west. In about 1885, Silas and Ama and baby son George, headed west in a covered wagon and settled on their homestead site in western Kansas. This was very desolate, flat, dry country in Gove Couty, about 70 miles north and little west of Dodge City. Due to lack of funds, and natural timber, they were forced to construct a "dugout" in the side of a small hill on their homestead...While they were in Kansas life was very difficult with centipededs, spiders, lice, mites and prairie fires trying to share their living quarters...The children born in the dugout were Ray Chester (my Gpa), Vesta, and the twins Nora and Dora. They were all born without a doctor attending. Nora was a blue baby, and her father saved her by breathing into her mouth when she was born."

Next time I even think about complaining, I'm going to remember Great Grandma Ama living in those conditions and having her babies in a dug-out. These dear people have lessons to teach me. For some reason, the older I get the more interesting these things become.

Dust and Compassion

2006-06-01T21:56:00.000-07:00

My friend Leslie got in a terrible car accident early Wednesday morning about two hours after she became a first time Grandma. On her way home from the hospital where her little grandson was born, she apparently fell asleep, and her car left the road and hit a tree. She is now at a hospital in Portland, heavily sedated with numerous injuries and long surgeries ahead of her.

I'm reminded again of Psalm 103 that tells us that "As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame, he remembers that we are dust." This frame of ours is frail, easily crushed, broken, torn and bruised. I am so comforted by the fact that the Lord knows Leslie's frame, and that as her loving Heavenly Father, He has compassion on her. In Him we hope and trust for the difficult path that lies ahead for this dear family. We will walk it with them.

The Problem with Parking Lots

2006-05-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

Parking lots are an evil necessity. People do very weird things in them. How many of us have parked our car, opened the door and put our foot down to step in...heaven only knows what. In a sadistic way, I can't help but try to analyze exactly what it is. Is it somebody's cold latte from the day before that they have dumped out to make room for their fresh, hot one today? Or could it be the worse imaginable, the "V" word? And, if it is vomit, is it baby vomit (more politely called spit-up), child vomit, or big people's vomit? There is a huge difference in my mind. Vomit from children under the age of say 6 months-2 years is no problem, ages 2-6 not too bad, 6-12 it's getting gross, and if it's teenage stuff--well we all know what a teenager's diet consists of. If it looks adult-like--well, they probably shouldn't have drank so much the night before. One time, in the mall parking lot, I saw a woman and man walking along, and the woman projectile vomited something white, and stopped only for a brief moment and then continued on her merry way. I fantisized that she was having morning sickness; somehow it made me feel better about the whole thing, even though I had a hard time getting that picture wiped out of my memory for quite sometime. (Now we know why Jessica is like she is. It must be genetic.) Anyway, I digress.

Parking lots just seem to be the place for people to spit their gum, pour out drinks, dump dirty diapers (they certainly don't want to drive home with that stinking thing in their car), and leave their fast food leftovers and garbage. Whose mother do they think is going to clean up this stuff?I was a stickler about teaching my kids not to litter. We used to debate on the way to school as to whether it was permissible to toss out a banana peel or apple core. This was way out on country roads where it was possible for something to biodegrade way before the next car would come along. To leave any piece of garbage, no matter if it was only the size of a chewing gum wrapper, in a parking lot would have meant sure and swift punishment. I wonder if the people leaving their garbage in the lots had mothers that taught them anything?

But probably at the top of my list of the "Most Annoying Things People Do in Parking Lots' (and on sidewalks) is men who feel compelled to spit luggies. What is it with men that they like to hack that stuff up and spout it out only for some nice girl in a pair of flip flops to set her foot on? And to top it off, they have no sense of propriety; they do it right in front of you. Come on men. Didn't your mommas teach you better?

Hospice Work

2006-05-15T18:28:00.000-07:00

Hospice work is....well...its kind of like....well, sort of...indescrible. It is an everyday occurence for someone from medical records to notify me that a patient has died. Sometimes it happens every day and sometimes several times a day. It's not your run of the mill job. When someone from Medical Records tell me that Mrs. So and So has died, I say "thank you" -- for lack of knowing what else to say. Working in the office, all I know about most of the patients is a very brief medical sketch. Details such as age, diagnosis, caregiver, address, etc. Most profiles aren't terribly shocking since most of our patients are elderly. No surprises there. Being educated thoroghly about the grim fact that breast cancer will touch 1 in every 8-10 (depending on which statistics you read) women takes the edge off of surprise when I see a woman in her 40's dying of breast cancer. It's the thirty somethings that shock me. The really painful ones for me are not those who have been ravaged by MS or cancer but those who have been brought to the end of themselves by the destruction of substance abuse. I wonder where it all started. That first beer seemed so harmless. Now with a swollen liver that makes the abdomen resemble a 10 month pregnancy and pain that is sometimes difficult to manage it doesn't seem so harmless. It is the way of man. God has given us everything good to enjoy, but it is man's tendency to take it and abuse it. This young man is my son's age. Ah, just another day in the life of hospice.

Letting Go- A Mother's Day Thought

2006-05-14T17:03:00.000-07:00

I had missed seeing them for sometime because I had been going in to work later, but this morning I hit the corner of Circle and Walnut just in time. As I stopped at the light, I watched as the little Asian boy in his white hooded sweatshirt bolted across the crosswalk in front of my car. His short legs moved as fast as they would carry him and his small frame, ladened with a heavy blue backpack, leaned far over his tennis shoes, almost as if he was deterimidly fighting a headwind. But it was a lovely morning, and there was no more than a slight morning breeze. But something was terribly amiss; and then I saw her. The same lovely, petite Asian mommy that I would always see walking her son to school each morning. But now she she was standing alone near the crosswalk, leaning against the sign and stretching her neck as she anxiously poised herself to dart out to save him in case any danger threatened to overtake him. He made it safely across and continued at top speed towards the school only to ever so briefly turn his head to catch her eye as if to say, "I'm o.k. Mom."

And so it is with mothering (and fathering). There is a season for handholding and going the path with them, and there is a time to let go. There comes a day when they don't physically need us to cross the street, or for that matter the world. And, that's precisely one of the goals of parenting. But we are forever vigilant to watch, to care, to pray, and to hope that they take a minute to make contact and let us know that they are "o.k".