My mother has a placard on her desk that we gave her last Christmas, an engraving of her job title: “Emotional and Spiritual Consultant.” She got a master’s degree in interpersonal communications in the 80s and has been doing that full time, paid or unpaid, ever since.
Like others who excel as stay at home moms, my mother dedicated herself to the care of my brother and me and the service of our community. A careful calendar of one hundred important birthdays hung above her desk; she published an annual report via the family Christmas card and could predict the contents of other families’ before they arrived in the mail. None of this was for status or for something to do. All of it was because she believed that relationships were not just valuable but actively worth her time.
Mom never performed for these people, even in the way that women in my community were encouraged to perform. She hosted and baked, planned lunches and birthday parties, but her focus was how to do these things with simplicity and love. She was serious about contentment—the kind of person who created an emotionally healthy home and let us help ourselves to what’s in the pantry. Mostly, the way she listened and smiled at you made you feel safe, like you were the smartest and most interesting person in the world.
When it was time to plan the guestlist for my wedding, I asked my mom for a list of close friends she would like to invite. It was over sixty people, not acquaintances or social friends but rather soul-deep connections she had nurtured for decades. These were women and men who had prayed over my future marriage before I was born, and there were too many of them to invite to a wedding. Because my mom was that kind of friend to them.
I’ve come to appreciate the difficulties of running a household and finding community since I left home for college. Some people call it “adulting,” but watching other adults struggle to delay an ounce of gratification or get a good night’s sleep, I’m wondering if that word suffices. “Responsibility” is closer but kind of stale.
Someone once described wisdom as skill in living. Watching my mother win friends and influence people, I think she is wise.