A story for mothers

Shall I tell you a story?  One day a woman with three young children, a long to-do list and dark circles under her eyes told herself that she was not allowed to do something that she really loved doing.  She told herself, in rather harsh tones (the same voice she used to shout at her children), to stop being so silly, who did she think she was anyway? and that she had far too many other important things to do.  She told herself that as a mother of three, soon to be returning to working outside of the home, she had no time to be indulging in her particular interest.  Her children needed her, every moment of the day, to take care of their needs and their comfort.  So she stopped doing what she loved, she 'put away those childish things'; literally - in a drawer, where she didn't have to see them because it was too painful.

Fortunately for her there was something inside her that would not give up so easily.  A small quiet, gentle little voice that listened to all these harsh reprimands and nodded sagely and admitted that she was, indeed, 'very busy', and her children did need her very much.  This quiet little voice also suggested in softer, kinder tones than she used with herself, that perhaps if she did do a little of the something that she loved very much, if she gave this to herself as a gift, then maybe she would do a better job with all those other things she had to do.  All those other roles she had to play.  If she allowed herself this thing she might perhaps be more of a whole person and that whole person (as opposed to a person with a hole inside her) might be more pleasant for her husband and children to be around.  The little voice reminded the woman listening intently that as the mother in the family she was the heart of that family and a heart with a hole in it does not function as well as a whole one.

The woman knew these words to be very true, deep down she knew.  So, she took her notebooks out of the drawer, she took up her pen, she switched on her computer, she opened up her heart and her mind.  She allowed herself to do what it is she most loves to do.  She gave herself this gift and she was grateful.  The words poured happily out of her as she gave them some time and some space to do so; the words were relieved that they had their channel back again.