Choices

Beautiful article I wanted to share. Her description of the way she felt on her graduation from college, looking ahead to marriage, really describes the way I feel right now. I hope I can look back in 20 years and feel as confident as this mother about the choices I made in my life.

The Choice I Made
by Theresa A. Thomas

There was a cherry tree in the backyard of my childhood — a fragrant, bulging cherry tree whose branches sprawled out in three different directions. On summer afternoons, my sister and I would climb and dream in that cherry tree, oblivious to the world below.

In its branches we were riding dinosaurs, soaring into space, or just hiding from our little brother. In that tree we made plans for the rest of our lives and for the rest of the afternoon. The possibilities were endless.

Flash forward twelve years. I am a sophomore in college declaring a major. I choose English because I love the written word and a good story, and I choose a minor in History because I finally figure out that history consists of good stories that happen to be true. Ignoring well meaning advisors who suggest a practical major, I study what I love and worry about a job later.

It is a hot day in May when I turn my tassel and join the ranks of alumni. "Magna Cum Laude" reads my diploma. I am so proud. I have a practical job at an advertising company waiting for me, but my secret desire is "just" to be the best wife I can be to David, the man I will soon marry, and to be an extraordinary mother to the brood of children we hope we will have.

I have kept all my Shakespeare notes so I can introduce him to my not yet existing children. I have saved all my history papers so one day these children can know the magnificent stories that have created the fabric of modern life. I am yearning, not for advancement through the agency I have just joined, but to excel as a helpmate to my ambitious, smart, soon-to-be husband. I am feeling stronger that this desire of mine is a vocation to which God has called me. I am feeling that God wants me to be His missionary at home, to some little people who don’t even exist yet. After graduation I ask my father if he would regret his financial assistance to me in college if I did no more then stay home and raise children. He smiles and replies that in educating me he has educated an entire family.

Today I sit on the green painted, peeling rocker on the front porch of my home. The street is lined with cottonwood trees. They are messy, and aren’t good for climbing, but they are sturdy, prolific, and provide nice shade on hot summer days. In my arms I hold my baby daughter. She and I sit rocking, watching her seven brothers and sisters play in the yard. It will be fall soon, and we will start school again, in the schoolroom in our home, as we have done for years.

My vocation has become my passion, which has become my full-time job. Day after day I explain addition, sew on buttons, read and interpret stories, read and interpret hearts. Through home schooling and performing my duties as wife and mother I come to believe that service is at the heart of authentic womanhood. We love those whom we serve, and by serving we learn how to love. Serving my family has given me great joy. Many days I feel I fall short in my mission, but I move on, go forward, reminding myself of Mother Teresa’s gentle command: “Do ordinary things with extraordinary love.”

In the years we have homeschooled, I have been able to introduce my children to Shakespeare (“Mommy, Puck is so funny!” exclaimed my little daughter referring to a character in A Midsummer Night’s Dream), and to the events leading up to the American Civil War. (These true stories rival any present day adventure book!) My children and I have endured monotonous memorization of state capitols, and have reveled in the discovery of history come alive by traveling to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania and Washington, D.C. We have had family poetry nights, where we share original poems, and have played our own version of Jeopardy with science topics.

My two oldest sons have made the transition to the diocesan high school. Their sister will follow next year. My service to them, now, has shifted to letting go, little by little, so they can eventually learn to stand on their own. I must work myself out of a job, free them to make their own choices, and then repeat this process again and again with my other children.

When chaotic days unfold, as they inevitably do, I remind myself that I am living a vocation which, in its best moments, allows me to pass the richness of my education on to another generation, and in its worst moments, allows me to practice virtues, such as patience, that I will probably never master. During the day, like so many other mothers, I teach and learn, cook and clean, and drive kids to soccer practice and violin lessons, all while trying to help my children know, love and serve God. At night, I do what I love best — tell stories and snuggle with my children. They invigorate me. They exhaust me. They form me just as I form them.

After I close their doors at night, sometimes I think about their futures. I don’t regret not pursuing a full-time paying job. I don’t worry what might have been. My education has not been wasted. On the contrary, it has been well-used. My choice isn’t the only one, but it is a valid one. I have made a good decision, and with God’s help my children will make good decisions too. I realize, almost twenty years later, that the possibilities are still endless.