The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

Turning 30 was hard for me. I remember my mother being 30. I was about 3 years old and I remember knowing my mom was 30. Thirty always seemed so grown up, so adult...THE BIG 3 0!



I planned my life to 30, that penultimate moment of adulthood. As a little girl I set my goals. When I grew up I would:
1. Go to college away from home.
2. Get a job.
3. Marry a prince.
4. Buy a house.
5. Have kids.

This overachiever met all her goals by the time she was 27. I had three years to spare! I even married a prince! Notably absent from my list of goals is that said prince should be independently wealthy and own a castle, so my prince is pauper, but he is my prince none the less.

So I turned 30. I felt anything but accomplished. The actualization of the guarantee of my future death loomed over me. Suddenly all my goals and my efforts seemed so trivial. This was my life and it was short. I had no clue when it would end and I had no plans to do anything other than wipe away boogies and go to PTA meetings between my daily 9 to 5 and bedtime. How unbelieving lame!

There are dynamic people in this world. I should reference some of my favorites here and explain their contributions to the world and why they matter and why that makes me feel bad about myself because I suck at this thing called life, but I am writing this after a long day and honestly that would just take too much of my time and entirely too much effort for this hour, so heres the cliff's notes: They run companies and countries. Their decisions affect economies. They save lives with emerging science and medical treatments. They petition for change and rally the resources to motivate and move people. CEOs, politicians, doctors, scientists, civil/social rights activists...These people are
truly making the most of their brief existence.

I, however, am a fat insurance adjustor with a dirty house and two kids whom I yell at too much. My days are a monotonous race to get to work, get to the grocery store, get to soccer practice, get laundry done, get dinner cooked, get the kids bathed, get the kids in bed, go to bed...Repeat. Repeat. Repeat...The older I get more meaningless tasks I seem to have to do and the less time I have to do them in. I am going like 100 miles a minute but I just spinning my wheels, wasting my time running a rat race every Monday through Friday, sinking is laundry and covered in PB&J, wishing my life away just waiting on the weekend so I can race from the soccer field to a birthday party to church to the grocery and NONE of it really matters, not in the big scheme of things.

Oddly, I had never aspired to be much more than a mother. I always knew I wanted to work but I never had ambitions of being a doctor or a politician or a scientist or a...I just wanted to get married and have children and be middle class.  I know, its laughable. I wanted to be middle class. It was short sighted. I grew up poor. Yet there I was, 30, employed, married, kid, 2 dogs, mortgage...living the American Dream.

I had one live to life and I felt like I was wasting it. Nothing I was doing would be remembered, outside a few generations, and most certainty nothing I was doing would have any grand effect on the world. Nope, I was a blip in time in the great universe, my life seemingly meaningless. I was depressed. Depressed because none of it would matter in the end. Yay Adulthood!!

It never ceases to amaze me how God schools me. I will have it figured out, like I did at age 30, when he will drop a tidbit of his omnipotent wisdom in my lap. I imagine He chuckles as I realize how stupid I am. This particular insistence my education came in the form of a verse and a poem.

The verse was Ecclesiastes 3:1-14...

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To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven, A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot, A time to kill and a time to heal; a time to tear down and time to build, A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, A time to cast away stones and a time to gather them; a time to embrace and a time to refrain, A time to receive and time to love; a time to keep and a time to give up, A time to tear and a time to mend: a time to be silent and a time to speak A time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink and find satisfaction in all their toil, this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. *Ecclesiastes 3:1-14*

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Oh, I get it. God has given me two children to raise and that is my current season. (YES!) I have many seasons to come and God will call me to do many things. (YES!) So my grand contribution to his creations waits for me in my future. (NOT SO FAST!)

And that is where the poem comes in.  The poem was The Hand That Rocks the Cradle (1865), by William Ross Wallace

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The Hand That Rocks the Cradle 

Blessings on the hand of women! Angels guard its strength and grace, In the palace, cottage, hovel,Oh, no matter where the place; Would that never storms assailed it, Rainbows ever gently curled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy's the tender fountain, Power may with beauty flow, Mother's first to guide the streamlets, From them souls unresting grow—Grow on for the good or evil, Sunshine streamed or evil hurled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission Here upon our natal sod! Keep, oh, keep the young heart open Always to the breath of God! All true trophies of the ages Are from mother-love impearled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women! Fathers, sons, and daughters cry, And the sacred song is mingled With the worship in the sky—Mingles where no tempest darkens,Rainbows evermore are hurled; For the hand that rocks the cradle Is the hand that rules the world.

***

I realized my error, and how blind I had been by the ignorance of my youth. Yes, I was 30, burdened with the responsibility of adulthood. I should not be focused on the end because I was standing at the beginning one the greatest seasons if my life. 

I don't know what the future may hold, the seasons to come, whether they will be "great" or not. All I know this is my current season, and it matters.

I have been called to be a mother. I may not make great scientific discoveries, or write a book that endures for centuries, or stand against injustice, or lead a charge for civil rights...but I am affecting change and shaping the world. I am teaching love and kindness and equality and tolerance...We all have different parts to play, none greater than the others, and each to His glory. My greatest calling, to raise the children God has given me and impress upon them his love and teachings so He may use them to further his kingdom as is His plan. (OH DUH ELENA!)

Momma's, I know it seems like reading that book one more time or letting your daughter pull, I mean brush, your hair is the greatest joke the universe ever played on anyone. I know carpooling and packing lunches seems like a waste of your talents and abilities, not to mention the 30K or more your spent for that college education. It is exhausting this side of adulthood, surrounded by Koolaid mustaches and poptarts. I know how taxing it is to hear "mom mom mom mom momma mommy mom mom mom mom mom mom mom..." But you are exactly where God has called you to be, doing his work raising the next generation. All those great people doing great things all had mothers.

I am a mother. WE are mothers. The most dynamic force our my children's lives. Great women that affect change. Great women who empower and inspire by their sacrifice and love. Great women who build generations...for the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

Happy Mother's Day!