Why my place IS in the kitchen...

This morning, as I clean up the dishes from my "Mother's Day breakfast" I have to smile :).  The Goob and Liliputian told me last night that they were going to get up at 5 o'clock to make me a "waffles breakfast."  The sparkles in big blue eyes filled me with their love and made me so happy.

So, when I got up in the quiet hours of morning (while they were still sleeping :)...), and started cleaning up a very messy kitchen, I was happy!  I was preparing a canvas where my children could express their love for me!  With almost every dish in our house dirty before me, I could just remember those sparkly blue eyes--so full of happiness just thinking about serving me--and it was as though my heart had wings and it became a labor of love.

And now, as I clean up the same, wonderful breakfast and the many dishes that came with it, I was just struck by the thought: How much our Father in Heaven must smile at us at the little imperfect gifts we give Him :)!

He must see our hearts, much as I glimpsed into the hearts of my children through their eyes,...and, somehow, I could glimpse that our gifts to Him are enough.

Now, a bit of reality here...this is a relatively new perspective for me :).  I have had my years full of entitled mentality of "wo is me!" and not accepting the seemingly "imperfect" offerings from my children, thinking that it was simply not enough to satisfy my worn out mother's soul.  For instance, I have heard of (and occasionally felt) the dread of Mother's Day coming with all the unfulfilled expectations.  Been there.  Done that.  Let me tell you something.  This way feels much better.

I tried to think of it from my kid's (and husband's!) perspective: try giving a gift or making a beautiful day when you know it will be imperfect and, thus, not enough to bring that sparkle to your mom's (wife's) eyes.  If I were them, I would get worn out and full of despair!  Several years ago, as I started feeling those "Mother's Day" twinges, I decided, "I am going to make Mother's Day a day when I rejoice in being a mom!  I am going to take the whines, the poopy diapers, and the inevitable fights and turn them around!  I am going to see it as a chance to sooth, cleanse, and comfort...something that only I can do in that special mommy's way."

And let me tell you something else:  my mother's days just keep getting better and better.  I get to be a mom, and there is always a little (or lot) of extra special somethings to make the day even better :).

Now, back to breakfast.

My experience with my kid's in the kitchen goes along with something that has been on my thoughts for a while.  My daughter told me last week that someone she heard about is writing something about "Why a woman's place is not in the kitchen..."  and it got me thinking.  Sure, I spend a lot of time grumbling and moaning about the work in the kitchen and I have faced my share of struggles and pity-parties scrubbing and scraping in the kitchen, only to have it dirty moments later.  But, somehow, the subject matter of her friend's writing made me feel uneasy.

I wanted to shout:  "My place is in the kitchen!"

The kitchen is a place where we work, love, and laugh together.  I have had thousands of priceless conversations over preparing food and cleaning it up with my children. (Like the one I am having right now with my eight year old, who peppers me with questions, comments, and kisses :)...makes it hard to concentrate!)  We have laughed, cried, fought, and had spiritual epiphanies over scrubbing potatoes and scraping pans.  It is in the kitchen where I serve in a very fundamental way, for I have heard it said that a person must first have their basic needs met before they can seek other truths.  The quest for sustenance and shelter must, in very many ways, come before the quest for the soul.

My memories of kitchens are warm and loving, even with all the work that goes on there. (Perhaps it is because of the work that goes on there?)  My children inevitably wander through it while I cook, drawn by the tantalizing smells.  I see their excited little eyes eager for the goodies I make.  I see the sparkling counter-tops and sigh with satisfaction each time I finish, even knowing that in mere moments it may be covered with flour, goop, and spills from the next project.

May no one ever take my place there, for the kitchen and all the good and bad that happens there may very well be the way to my children's soul. The way to a young man's heart may very well be through his stomach :). The hand that rocks the cradle changes the world, I've heard.  That is the same hand that feeds the body and soul of those little ones.  May I rejoice that, for a few lives, mine has been that hand.

My mother's making of an agrarian home

Time to go back and get to those dishes :)!