The Most Important Job

Sometimes I feel kind of insignificant. I talk to an old friend, or hear news about a family member, or log onto facebook, or watch TV, and there it is: Somebody is excited that they just got their doctorate degree. Somebody else is asking for prayer for their mission trip to another continent. Somebody is moving up the ladder with their exciting career. Somebody started their own business. Some movie star is a huge celebrity with a brilliant career AND has a family!

And me? Well, I'm just here. Hangin' out. You know, "JUST" a mom. I "clean" (move piles from here to there), make food that mostly ends up on my dining room floor which I then have to mop, continue this endless cycle of unloading and then reloading the dishwasher (it hasn't been empty since we installed it), "do" about 87 loads of laundry every day (and when I turn the lights out in the laundry room I pretend not to notice all the ones still in the dryer and in piles that never got folded), I spend a total of 2 1/2 hours each day changing diapers and a total of 4 hours each day picking up toys . . . . . blah, blah, blah. And nobody cares.

I mean, if I were to be leaving tomorrow to be a surgical nurse on board one of the Mercy ships headed for an African port, people would love to hear about it and would be all excited for me. Or if I just landed a job as a CEO of some major company, you better believe I'd have that news spread to everyone I know. But who really wants to hear, "Pray for me! Today I'm going to try (for the 945th time) to teach a tiny human at the most volatile stage of its development (age 2), to pee and poop in the potty, and not in a diaper which I have to clean." Or, "Woohoo! Today my toddler put her peas in her mouth instead of her nose! Progress!" Or, "Today, I did the most miraculous thing! I took 3 kids under the age of 4 to the doctor's office, and we all made it back to the van without someone getting run over or lost or putting their mouth on something gross or laying on the floor and having a meltdown. It was a good day."

See what I mean? Somehow, it's gotten lodged into my brain that those things all sound pretty ridiculous next to the really great things that other people seem to be doing. I've noticed this especially since I quit my job 2 months ago to be a full-time stay-at-home-mom. Before that, when someone asked, I could still say, "Oh, I'm a registered nurse." Even though I was barely working the last year or so, that was still my identity. Now when someone asks, I have to admit I sometimes have this little nagging feeling of embarrassment or inadequacy when I have to say, "Yeah, I just stay home with the kids now...." And sometimes I've felt like I don't really know what my identity is anymore.

But here's what it is. There are 3 relatively new humans in the world. The were given to me. They look like me, and sometimes they act like me. I do NOT want to discount fatherhood --- their Daddy is awesome, and works so hard to provide a good life for us, and he's a great parent. But because he's earning our living, I'm the one who is here to do most of the parenting. . . . . And if you really think about it, there isn't a job or a title on this planet that's more serious or important. These 3 little people will learn all basic human knowledge from ME. I'm the one who will teach them how to be kind, and how to love, and how to be patient and forgiving. It's I, who will be their example when it comes to eating healthy, or dressing decent, or having a proper body image. From me, they'll learn how to keep their stuff clean and take care of it, and how to have fun and enjoy life. I'm the one who will show them how to respect others, and stand up for themselves, and stick to what they believe in.

Sometimes, there will be these awesome special teaching moments. But do you know when I'm teaching them most of those things I just mentioned?? When I'm cleaning or doing laundry without complaining. Or putting aside my work to help someone who really needs it. Or taking care of myself even though I feel like there's no one around to really see or care how I dress or look every day. Or being cheerful and kind to them, even when I've lost all patience.

I've always loved the old story about the man walking the beach and tossing stranded starfish back into the ocean. And the skeptical passer-by who asks him how it can matter and what he hopes to prove, when there are THOUSANDS of stranded starfish. And the guy looks at the starfish in his hand and says, "It matters to this one." What I do every day may not matter to anyone else in the world, but to 3 small people, it matters very, very much.

So every day lately, I've been trying to think, "What can I do today to show these little people that I love them, and to teach them about how to live life?" Because that's my job. And it's the most important one in the world.