Today I’m sending my love to all you moms out there who support, nurture, give and grow this world.
Even if you aren’t raising kids, many of you do these very same things for other people in your lives.
It’s fun to be recognized on Mother’s Day for this important job. I know my role is crucial to my children, but still, I have many days when I forget I’m doing something important.
Days can go by where I don’t feel seen or acknowledged for my work as a mom, and that’s okay. The laundry, cooking, tidying, organizing, homework—it’s what I signed up for.
But on my ‘feeling invisible’ days, sometimes I ask myself, “If I didn’t do all this, would anyone notice? Does anyone even care?”
Whenever I start feeling like a martyr, I have to reset and find my way back to meaning, or I’ll fall apart fast.
Sometimes I find meaning on my yoga mat, in a conversation with a friend, a moment by myself, or from time in nature. I have to consciously create these moments for myself, because our culture rewards ‘doing stuff’ over meaning and sacredness.
Spending time in other cultures, I’ve learned it doesn’t have to be this way.
Travelling in Bali and India, I witnessed the locals performing daily offerings. Each day, the staff at the small Balinese hotel would place a beautiful arrangement of flowers, incense and leaves at the foot of a Goddess statue, or in front of a tree. A day wouldn’t go by without offerings being given in sacred ritual.
And in India, leaves holding a tea light and adorned with flowers, were prepared on the holy river’s edge and sent in an offering down the Ganges.
Often, these were very small tokens. They were beautiful and meaningful. And many had nothing to do with a special occasion.
These small but beautiful offerings were a part of every day life.
This made me start to think about my daily mothering activities in a different light.
I realized that as small as they appear, there is such meaning in the daily gifts I give my children.
This week I removed a spider from the house, found a missing sock, and broke up an argument between sisters. I held a hand. I rummaged through the house to find staples, braided hair, and untangled a necklace. I read books, peeled carrots, and gave a speech on walking home alone.
Small gestures of support are tremendous acts of love.
They occur every day. They are as beautiful as the flowers floating down the river, equally powerful and sacred.
They often go unnoticed, and sometimes feel like duty or obligation.
But when I stop and remember the beauty of the small gifts I give my family, my whole body relaxes. I return to the sacredness of it all.
Today I’m thinking of you and the countless offerings of love you share in the world.
We’d like to celebrate one of your small acts of love—anything from wiping a runny nose to preventing a teenage meltdown. Please share in the comments below.
Your love makes a difference.