There’s a robin’s nest in my backyard. You can see it if you look closely from any of the back windows. I discovered it by chance a couple weeks ago as I was walking past the little tree it’s nestled in. Mama bird shot out and took off from it as I got unknowingly too close. The nest is beautiful and well built. Honestly, I’m amazed by the skill with which it was constructed. When I stood, hopeful, on tiptoe to see what was inside, I was not disappointed. In fact, I was graced with the sight of three beautiful turquoise eggs. I am now somewhat obsessed with this new bird family and their survival. Sean and the kids have and do make quite a ruckus in the back. In fact, to my horror and without going into too much detail, part of the birds’ tree was actually “trimmed” while a zip-line was installed on the kids’ tree house. I honestly thought that was going to be the end of their existence, and yet, the birds persisted. I’ve watched mother bird come faithfully back to the nest every evening, and much to my delight three little hatchlings (scrawny and featherless) were spotted just a couple days ago. Mother and father bird have now busied themselves collecting food and feeding the babies non stop for the past few days. Mother bird only rests when she needs to protect her wee ones from the elements of the Pacific Northwest—AKA rain. They are so close to the end goal and yet I feel they still have so far to go. I am anxious to see the young birds take flight and make their way into the world.
With the exception of the zip-line incident, my family has respectfully kept their distance from the birds at my request, but they also remind me there are a lot of birds in this world, on our property even. They don't share my fascination with this particular bird family’s care and survival. I’ve been wondering myself why the birds have become so important to me. Perhaps it’s the pure innocence of their existence. I want to see something sweet and good survive in a world that feels filled with so much negativity. Between the stress of the pandemic and the opening of my eyes to the racism still rampant throughout our society I feel calmed and reassured by their presence. Life appears to go on no matter what turmoil is happening around them, and maybe, just maybe, if they are faithful to their cause they will reach their end goal. It is also kind of magical to watch these little birds form right before my eyes, and as silly as it may sound, I look up to mother bird. I marvel at her care and devotion to her babies. Her entire existence is dedicated to them right now. This is not unlike my own life at the moment. As a stay at home mom, my life revolves around caring for my family and running a household. But here’s the truth of it. I am struggling with this role. I question what kind of job I am actually doing. Some days I wish to be working again because I miss feeling productive and openly valued. More days than I’d care to admit I feel aimless. I think to myself, “What is my purpose?” I easily loose site of what I’m doing and begin to feel isolated, alone, even invisible. Moving to a new place, taking on this new role, watching my partner go off and successfully make his way while I silently seem to be falling behind. It hurts. I’ve done my best to carry on. To nurture, and feed, and entertain, and most importantly, love my little birds so that one day they’ll make their way in to the world feeling capable on their own but our journey is much longer than the bird’s in my backyard, and I feel lost. How am I supposed to show them the way when I don’t know where I am going myself? With the added stress of the pandemic and a personal betrayal my world has been spiraling. Too much change and stress and world chaos. I admit, I was knocked off my feet. Today, I’m standing again, but I feel shaky. My sense of trust is skewed, and my way forward is still not clear. I’ve had a lot of questions lately. Big questions. My therapist compares my questions to a mid-life crisis. She says I am remaking myself. She’s probably not wrong, and this process of remaking, of grieving a former life and healing from past hurts is hard. Sometimes, the healing, hurts more than the breaking did. I keep wondering, should we have moved? Should I get a job? Should I go back to school? Should I homeschool the kids? Should I just be content at home? Then there’s the ultimate question, am I doing anything of value? What does that even mean? Is there more out there for me? Would going back to a career or moving my location change how I feel about my value? I know deep down, I don’t need to be a bad ass career woman, earn a PhD, or win the race to have a meaningful, purpose driven life. My kids don’t have to be the smartest in their class or the best player on the team either. But finding value without these culturally contrived benchmarks is a tricky business. Particularly because these kind of accomplishments are rewarded and cheered on by society. Don’t get me wrong, these are wonderful accomplishments, but can they really compare to the silent work of the educators and caretakers. At the risk of receiving some backlash I’m just going to say it, we as a culture have an upside down view of what is most valuable including the role of a stay at home mother. Please don't mistake that statement as a jab at working moms or a slight on personal achievements. It doesn't have to be either or. But, and it’s a big but, there is a reason when people ask me what I do, I shrink a little and say, “I’m just a stay at home mom” or “I’m home with the kids right now”. As if this is only a temporary stop on my way to something better. I can hear what you’re thinking, but Leah, maybe you feel that way because you’re insecure. I am not. I am confident in the lessons society has taught me first hand, and I am working hard within myself right now to change the narrative about a stay at home mom's value, about my value.
This week, I’ve dared to ask myself, what if being a stay at home mom isn’t a temporary stop? What if this is my purpose and I am missing it because instead of embracing it I’m waiting, frustratedly at times, for this stage to pass? I’m sad by this thought. However, I don’t have to stay sad, and I don’t think I need to keep looking for validation from external sources. I think I’ve finally learned something important through the hard work of my fellow mother bird who receives no validation herself. She may not know it, but I see that mother bird’s dedication, hard work, and love. It is more beautiful to me than any fancy flight tricks she could do. So too I know that my heart and my intentions for my family are seen by something more divine. I have more to give and gain from my current role as the keeper of this family and the heart of this home than any degree, award, or material accolade. Starting now, I will remind myself, every day if needed, that ministering to my family is one of the most sacred acts I could do. I am serving that which is bigger than myself and my ego: faith, hope, and above all love. Love for my family, love for humanity. What more purpose could I possibly want? Yes, starting now, I will choose love. Will it still hurt somedays? Yes. Will it be hard? Yes. Will I have days I feel like I’m doing it wrong? God, yes. And on these days that I misstep and choose discontent and distraction I will simply start over and choose love again, and again, and again as many times as needed until my soul is reborn smarter, stronger, and more beautiful because love is all that I am.
To myself, to all the moms, to all the caregivers, you are enough. Rinse and repeat as often as necessary.
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