I could blog about a dozen other things in my life right now,
but I'm most focused this morning
on what I've been doing recently
that is more unusual.
Week before last,
a long-time friend of our family's called me
and asked for my help.
His wife had recently suffered a difficult pregnancy,
which was mostly alot of hyperemesis
and which sadly ended in a miscarriage,
then compounded by a very traumatic recovery.
They needed someone they trusted to come over
and care for her,
and for their other children.
I have been a post-partum doula before,
but always there has been a newborn in the house.
This would be different.
I was so glad they called,
but it was the day before we left for Utah
to take Nana to the MTC,
so I promised I'd get over there
as soon as I returned.
When I finally got over there last Friday,
Momma was in bed.
She was struggling with a slow recovery,
her physical and emotional states were
I had said a prayer before I went over,
that I would be able to discern her needs and meet them
and help her exactly where she needed help.
She hadn't been out of bed in many days
other than to the hospital.
She hadn't showered or visited with her other children
in many days.
She felt, she said, overwhelmed.
So, I listened to her.
I sat on her bed and just listened to this lovely sister
share her journey as long as she wanted me to listen.
I got busy.
I gathered her little chickens in the kitchen
and we made a plan to get their chores done,
with me working alongside them.
listening to them too.
Children worry about their parents,
but I don't know that adults slow down to listen
to those worries.
Their concerned faces started to lift with hope
as I expressed my positive declarations
that their momma was going to get better n' better
every day as we all work together and do our part.
I brought my own cd player and
put on some calming instrumental hymns
in the kitchen.
The children were attentive and eager to help
as we cleaned and then made a delicious lunch together.
I made the Momma a healthy green smoothie and a small salad.
She hadn't had an appetite in a long time, I was told.
Within a few minutes,
an empty salad bowl was given back to me
with a request for "more salad please."
An hour later,
Momma decided to get in the shower.
That was a big deal.
And I offered to help her come into the livingroom
and sit with her kids,
while I spiffed up her room,
n' changed her sheets.
She took me up on the offer.
The children treated their momma like a china doll
when she came into the livingroom.
It was interesting to watch them,
as they took seats in the room,
unsure how to talk to her or if they could sit by her,
but they were so happy to be with her,
that just thinking about their faces
makes my own eyes tear up.
Mothers are the heart of the home.
As I finished up,
and it was time to go,
I felt satisfied that the day had ended in good results.
Momma was feeling better.
Over the weekend,
the Dad called to tell me of the tremendous progress
his sweetheart was making and how grateful they were
for my contribution to that.
At those moments,
I want to deflect the attention like teflon.
I'm not comfortable with it.
Grateful though, definitely.
Yesterday, I arrived to find the kids more animated--
Momma was coming around and it did their hearts good.
So we cleaned,
there was even dancing in the kitchen!
I left with a crockpot dinner on the counter for later,
and my thoughts continued to settle upon the great calling
It occurred to me,
as I was standing at another mother's kitchen sink,
washing her family's dishes,
that my menial task,
that of washing dishes,
was helping another woman's heart to heal.
We mothers need to be mothered sometimes,
it is true.
We need soft shoulders,
listening, compassionate ears,
safe warm hands to lift our burdens with us
and all of us are capable of doing even simple things
to bless one another.
I know this to be true.