This past Sunday I attended a lecture, on the Yishuv, in a little library, by the author of the book "Expecting Miracles". It was an interesting lecture on the spiritual side of being pregnant, and being a mother.
At the end she asked us to do a bit of an exercise. As moms we don't get those little letters after our names that seem to establish ourselves as "somebody" in the eyes of the world. She asked us to "fill in those letters"; what would they be? We were to write, for five minutes, on a defining moment in our careers as moms and wives.
I was flummoxed; perplexed. This was beyond me. What would I write about? What could I write about? I have five children; what incident should I pick out, what event held great importance; such great importance that it would be worthy of committing to paper?
There were tons of events, and more over, I felt overwhelmed, and, moreover, I couldn't see myself writing about one particular event, as that would have to do with one or two of my children. And then I thought; what event brings them all into the picture? A Bar Mitzvah? Thanksgiving? Our first trip to Israel in 2000?
No; none were as important as this; a day when all the children were here; my daughter visiting us from the USA; after the Shabbat meal; everyone but me still hanging about the table, joking, laughing, arguing, their voices rising to meet me in the bedroom; happy, together, safe. Nothing earth-shaking; nothing really that would set it apart from other days and other meals; but together, laughing, faces happy and buoyant; full of love.
If I had a choice of only one memory to hold onto for the rest of my life, it would be an evening such as that; all my children together, their voices mingling and separating, and me listening in., satisfied and joyful; they were all home.
Posted by Rachel Ann at August 11, 2004 10:14 PM