We are the home+makers
By Esperanza DeLaLuz
Today when this world is so often in chaos, it is critical to remember what is important and what lasts. Too often the world, in general, demeans the role of homemaker. It seems to say that being a homemaker is what you do when you aren’t smart enough, strong enough, driven enough, or educated enough, to work outside the home. And that is clearly not the truth.
Making a home is much more than cooking, cleaning, and washing—you can hire those things out, if you have enough money. But you can’t pay someone to be your child’s mother. You can hire a babysitter, even a nanny who becomes devoted to your child—but that is still your child, and no one can love that child as you do, with love that is visceral, concrete, and unshaken.
Homemaking is mothering, too--making an environment where the people you love are able to grow and dream and feel safe. Homemaking is creating a haven, a breathing space, and a refuge from the world. Homemaking is helping children build a relationship with God.
Being a mother has challenges; it is not a job for the weak or the lazy or the selfish. But even if, like me, one has tendencies towards those things, it is amazing how much one improves when those tendencies interfere with the well-being of your child. Suddenly, selfishness becomes getting and doing and being whatever your child needs. Laziness is converted to opportunities to cuddle and sing, read stories and rocking your little one. And weakness—well, turning weakness into strength is something we model for our children. Inspired by our children's needs, we gradually become less weak, lazy, and selfish.
So, making a home for your children—your family—that is comforting, safe, and clean is nice, but it’s secondary to the love you have for your family. You do it because your family needs it—and hopefully they appreciate it (and learn to help)—but loving comes first. So, when you stress about how little housework you have managed to get done because you have spent your time mothering instead of cleaning, think of this charming little poem:
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait ‘til tomorrow,
For babies grow up, we’ve learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.
-- Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
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