As I have worked on the story of our family I’ve read journals, handled baby clothes, played music, and sifted through gifts from my children to awaken memories. I have seen how the arts have a power over memory that my conscious efforts don’t. I listened to an album from Paige’s childhood and the music didn’t bring back many concrete memories, but a yearning and a sweet ache. Feelings aren’t always nonsense. They can teach things that concrete objects can’t. My history isn’t just a chronology, it’s also emotion and motives not easily explained.
Music reminds me that there is a reality beyond memory that is sweet and real. Many details of motherhood are lost to me because I was tired and I didn’t write everything down. Music helps me remember what my mind cannot: how it felt to draw myself out to my children. It reminds me of unfiltered vulnerability and sacrifice, which are some of the ways I have loved.
Words, harnessed and molded, also help me understand my blessings. If I capture moments in words, they become objects of gratitude. Blessings multiply before my mind as I record Mark’s funny quotes, or the times when Timothy walked around the pool talking to the plants when he was a baby. Blessings take the form of the sparkle in Paige’s eyes when she danced and showed us her magnificent spirit on stage, or when Daniel, completely disarmed after a week away from home, gave me a long hug when he returned. These little things become pillars of memory as I take time to record them. It’s not just the big events that matter. Now recorded in words, these little memories are a testament to the blessings of having children; of the blessing of being alive.
Why make the effort to write? I want to be a voice that champions family. I want my family to know they are my favorite people.
Mothering was something I always wanted to do. It’s satisfying to me. It involves pain, worry, and frustration, too. It’s the role I cling to, but must find activities apart from, in order to be successful. Music and writing are those activities, yet they also bring me back to my family. I have an identity outside my titles, roles, and errands, but my role in the family has helped me in every way. I’m so thankful to be a daughter, sister, wife, and mother.
