Growing up, I had plans. Plans to succeed, to create. Plans to use the brain God gave me for something big.
I was sure these plans would lead to happiness. I would make something of myself. I would write my own success story. I would do well by worldly standards–big house, nice car, great shoes–and all would be well.
Yet here I sit, a very well educated stay-at-home mom to five very young kids. If I wrote my resume today, my special skills would include watching plays that don’t make sense, preparing meals no one eats, and negotiating household peace.
I would be lying if I said that this is exactly where I imagined myself at 36. Even in college, I remember recoiling at the idea of being “just” a mom. And I’m sure I’m not alone. I think many moms end up on a path that takes them a bit by surprise.
But I don’t believe I took the wrong road. I don’t regret a single choice. I’m not unfulfilled. In fact, my soul is more full than my childhood visions could have possibly imagined.
You see, I’m certain that at this particular moment I’m creating exactly what I should. I’m creating a stable home for our family. I’m creating a place of joy and peace for my kids. I’m making fun and rest and adventure. I’m cultivating five little spirits, five people that can grow up and add good to our world.
Hopefully I have many years ahead of me. My success may lie outside our family in the future, and perhaps I’ll be creating something more closely aligned to my old dreams at some point.
But no work I’ll ever create will compare to the work of raising these kids. These five kids, these five incredible people, are my masterpiece.