I’ve written so much about the impassioned path that if you type it as a string at Google you get my blog. Pretty much all of us have *heard* of impassioned living but very few of us have come to associate it with much more than television preachers and revival meetings. Can everyday man walk the impassioned path in today’s reality? Do these paths -- laid down across the Earth in crimson and indigo by the blood and tears of a Living Christ upon His Ascension – do these paths still exist for us to seek and find?
About a week ago, I said to a new friend, “Getting married and having children is not a destiny. It’s not even a destination.” I felt pretty darn adamant at the time. And don’t get me wrong. I’m not a drum-beating feminist (sorry, Mom!). I actually *do* believe that one parent – especially a mom – should stay at home. I don’t believe that daycare should be a first or even a second choice. I think public schools and daycare centers tend to strip children of a moral code and I think the only “socialization” that happens is akin to ingraining the addiction for mob mentality, mass approval and conformity.
However, I also strongly believe that a mother should be interesting to her children. She should have a rich, creative and passionate life that gives her depth. She is not solely life-giver and cherisher. She is a person, a spirit, not just a care-taker. She is *not* “The Giving Tree” to be eaten from, climbed upon and over, and then, finally, cut down, used for raw materials, only then to be asked to stand strong with nothing. *That* is called subservience. Not motherhood. A mother should not be relegated to any single tree because she is the entire forest and she is an adventurer within that forest as well.
“Getting married and having children is not a destiny.” I was haunted by my own definitive. I couldn’t let it go. Then... like reading my mind (which too many of my good friends do), I got an email from another friend: “You know, E.J., all my life I wanted children, way back when I was a little girl playing house with dolls. But my career took off first. It just happened that way. And I am so pleased with my career. I could die tomorrow and feel I’ve left a legacy in my work that builds every day. But *none* of this means as much to me as looking at my kids. They mean more to me. I would walk away if they asked me to.”
That’s obviously a mother speaking. She’d throw it all away for her kids?! Do I write her back and preach about martyrdom and self-esteem and priorities? Do I counsel her that she can have it all? Or do I stop allowing my own self-righteousness to haunt me? Do I admit – no, accept – that being a mother, just being a mother, only being a mother – can indeed be a destiny, a destination, an impassioned path?
“Christ, give me an answer. Guide me. Walk with me. Show me the way.”
I started thinking about all the moms I knew. Golly, I know a lot of moms! Every single one of them have powerful, satisfying careers – even if those careers happen from their “office” room in their own home. Many of them live private, multifaceted lives. All of them are fascinating to their children. And, even though I didn’t pick up the phone or send out a bulk email poll, I do believe that most, if not all of them, would walk away in an instant if their child said, “I need you. I need *all* of you.”
I argued that it is not *being* a mother that is a destiny but what that mother *does* that is her path. What example does she set? What kindness, compassion and altruism does she bring to the lives of her children and to the world at large? In short, what else does she do? But you know what? She doesn’t have to do anything else. She doesn’t have to do anything other than raise the next generation. Because to do that right, you have to be an interesting person. To change with the times, to guide and shape young people who will rule in a time even more distant? To do all that, you must be open to the unexpected. You must be able to imagine the unimaginable. You must be fully alive.
Just feeding and clothing a child, shuffling them onto a school bus or shuttling them to and from Scout meetings, is not being a mom. That’s called maintenance. Houses, pets, children, even partners require maintenance. That, indeed, is not impassioned path. But we start walking on that path when we cross over to talking openly and honestly with our children about death, about God, about sex, about politics. About creativity and dreams and expectations and reality. About our own hearts. About their hearts. About how it all began and how it will all end.
Gazing at Angels? Yeah, we certainly are. But we’re not just gazing. We’re trekking. We’re journeying with angels. How can being a mother *not* be an impassioned path when we’re walking with angels?
In the forest that is a woman’s heart, she walks with her children until they find their own paths. Paths that, by her guidance and by the grace of God, will be impassioned paths. Paths that circle ‘round and return to the forest time and again, for spiritual encouragement and map-making. For love, for help, for companionship.
To the moms in my life, all subscribers on this beautiful Sunday, and to all the women in my life who see motherhood as part of their destiny – an important part of their destiny – I say: Thank you. Because I live in the world that your children will rule.
With respect and love,
E.J.
