Artifact Motherhood December 2023

Dear little Loves,

After finishing a year in the classroom and embarking on my second full year of full time teaching, I am more intentional in how we spend our time together. The summer was slow, fulfilling, and rejuvenating. The fall has ushered in new stressors, leading me down a path of humility and embracing silence. But amidst the stress, chaos, and heartache the year wrought, I always find myself coming back to the solitude and stillness of our family–the weekend rhythm of baking and digging deep in the earth, the comforting feelings of snuggling up by a fire. These are the moments I crave when the world seems to be too much: home, stillness, gentleness. 

I sit here leafing through previous letters from this past year, I was struck by their common theme. The beginning of 2023 ushered in the desire to savor moments spent with you, digging deep within myself to be present and still. While I did not have a “word of the year” to strive towards, I did find that I naturally gravitated towards this theme. 

One invaluable lesson you have collectively taught me is the art of gentleness amidst the chaos. In acknowledging my own imperfections and embracing selflessness, I've come to realize that, like you, I am in a perpetual state of honing virtue. I stumble, make mistakes, and occasionally say or do things that I later regret.

When things get shaky and tempers flare, I find myself leaning into God’s gentle whispering to be still with you and listen. The gentle whisperings of  steering the ship towards resolution instead of more conflict.The cadence of our interactions has shifted for the better, and as we collectively strive to nurture patience and gentleness, I want you to understand that my intentions are sincere, and I am genuinely putting forth my best effort.

In the tapestry of our shared journey, I hope you can remember that, above all, I am trying my best. More importantly, it is because of you that I am able to acknowledge my weaknesses; it is because of you that I have a deeper understanding of love and mercy. 

With all my love,

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come.

Go next to the wonderful artist, Kirsty Larmour read her post in our blog circle.

Artifact Motherhood September 2023

Authentic Friendships

Dear Little Loves,

I vividly remember, as a little girl, the yearning for a sister–a constant companion who would share in my delight among dolls and dress-up clothes. In truth, I come from a family of all boys. This required me to forge deep, authentic friendships.I sought out women who love one another unconditionally, a village of feminine genius with the desire to walk beside one another through joys and struggles and without judgments. I sought out women who effortlessly picked up the rhythm right where we left off. I look at you two, and I think about how important it is to learn how to forge authentic friendships. While you have one another to practice, I realize that these connections I've cultivated over the years are truly a testament to the strength of the bonds formed beyond family ties.

As I reminisce about my early childhood days, I'm reminded of the resilience that grew within me as I navigated a predominantly male household. The absence of a sisterly figure compelled me to seek out kindred spirits among my female friends. These friendships have been a source of immense support and camaraderie throughout various chapters of my life. They've allowed me to experience the joys and complexities of womanhood through shared stories and aspirations, laughter, and struggles.

Observing the two of you, I'm reminded of the ability we all possess to nurture and sustain authentic connections. Your sisterly bond serves as a constant reminder that the foundation of a genuine friendship lies in unwavering acceptance, empathy, and the willingness to both celebrate and weather life's storms together. Just as you learn and grow from each other, my journey has shown me the transformative power of forming bonds with women who exemplify the authentic essence of friendship.

In a world that often emphasizes competition and superficiality, the relationships we cultivate among women hold a unique place. These connections serve as a safe haven where vulnerability is welcomed, dreams are nurtured, and support is unwavering. Your sisterly companionship mirrors the beauty of such friendships, reinforcing the significance of being each other's confidantes, motivators, and allies.

So, as you two embark on this journey together, remember that the value of your bond extends far beyond the confines of family ties. It symbolizes the strength that emerges when two individuals choose to stand by one another with open hearts and open minds. Just as I've treasured the friendships I've cultivated, your sisterhood is a testament to the fact that authentic connections have the power to shape our lives in the most profound ways.

Love always,

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come.

Go next to the wonderful artist Tanae Sorenson to read her post in our blog circle.

Season of Motherhood June 2023 Rooted

Rooted

Dear loves,

I feel a strong  call to rest this summer; I didn’t sign you up for summer camps or fill our family schedule to the brim with entertainment. No my dears, our days are filled with quiet and stillness. We have dirt under our feet and fingernails. These summer days are full of endless discussions about grasshoppers, the masters of disguise, and the ways in which deep, well drained root systems keep our vegetables, herbs and flowers healthy and productive.

I want you to consider the treasures that await to be discovered in the quiet of our yard: the difference in a bird’s song at the break of dawn and twilight of dusk, the feeling of cool grass between our toes on a hot summer day, how a spider's web glistens in golden light.  I want your memories ROOTED here, rooted in the summer we took rest and refuge in our garden together.  My intention is that  we will learn how to take care of our mental, physical and spiritual root systems, as we practice dwelling in the quiet and stillness of our days. 

The world is only getting noisier and overstimulation is more prevalent. My hope is that when you are called to a season of rest, especially in your adult life, the stillness won’t be so foreign. You will know how to deeply water your root system, to keep you healthy, well-grounded, and ready to bear fruit.

Stay rooted. 

Love,

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come.

Go next to the wonderful artist,Jo Haycock to read her post in our blog circle.

Artifact Motherhood May 2023

Dear L ,

As long as I can remember I have always wanted to be an educator. When I was in the third or fourth grade, my mother would bring home her old grade books for me to play with.  I would set up a classroom in my room complete with a library and a card catalog.  When it was time for college, naturally I gravitated towards education. It was through the discernment process  and a few doors closing, that I landed in the field of special education (mild-moderate). I remember sitting in one of my field study classes and getting into deep discussion about the nuances between Autism Spectrum Disorder, dyslexia, and ADHD.  I remember thinking to myself, how fascinating it would be to work with and mold these minds. It was my perspective, then and now, that neurodivergence is untapped potential and creativity. These minds possess new ways of seeing the world that the neurotypical couldn't fathom. I find it beautiful, unique and inspiring. 

I would have never imagined that 11 years later  I would be sitting in your therapist's office as she pointed to a painting on her wall. 

“What do you see, Mrs. Stokes?”

I replied, “A painting of a lonely horse.” We discussed the painting in detail. 

“Do you know what your son sees?”

“A horse.”

“No, he sees a black and white painting. Have you ever heard of Autism Spectrum Disorder?”

It’s almost been a year since this conversation about ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). I can not say that the news was an easy pill for me to swallow. As an educator, I knew exactly the world you faced. It was not the world I imagined for you. As your mother, I felt guilty that I didn’t see it coming. It is my natural inclination that your life should be carefree and easy, in the sense that the grass is always green and there is continual sunshine. It’s hard for me to watch any of my children struggle with academics or social emotional intelligence deficits. I naturally want to go in, right away, and fix and kiss away any suffering. 

L , I have to do something or walk the path to understand that something on a deeper level.  My experience with Dyslexia, ADHD, or ASD, is no different.  The summer after your diagnosis,  I grappled with the literature and therapies. It dawned on me,  I could go out into the world and use this hard-won degree I earned 11 years ago in hopes that by walking the path, it would lead me to a deeper understanding of neurodivergence, which I desperately craved. 

The truth is, sometimes I am scared. Sometimes I am scared that I don’t have what it takes to meet each and every one of your needs–to talk you out of a loop or handle a matter of fact disagreement. To teach you to understand and think outside of a black and white box in a world that operates in the gray.  In the subsequent months of teaching special education at  the highschool level, I witnessed, first hand, that by serving my students, I can come home and better serve you, teaching you in the gray isn’t as daunting of a task.

Thank you for being the driving force and inspiration to my purpose, as  both a mother and an educator. Thank you for the challenges we have faced together and opportunities that have stretched my endurance and understanding. Teaching me about your world, hasn’t and will-not always be easy and warm. It is my hope,  when you find this letter someday, you will have the ability to read between the lines and discover the gray. Discover that a big part of my decision to go back into education was to see and understand your world on a deeper level. It was not   YOU that needed to understand the gray,  I needed to see and understand the black and white. 

Please stay exactly as you are: wonderfully and beautifully made. 

Love,

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come.

Go next to the wonderful artist, Diana Hagues to read her post in our blog circle.

Season of Motherhood February 2023

Savoring

Unexpected winter weather put a pause on the weight and urgency of weekly schedules. I find myself welcoming the break and leaning in to slow moving days. I take pleasure in the stillness of my littles curled up next to me, soaking in the unstructured, creative play and warm goods fresh from the oven. The winter weather ushered in an impromptu and much needed recharge–a moment to savor the moments I didn’t realize I deeply craved.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artefacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Go next to the wonderful artist Caro Wellings to read her post in our blog circle.

Artifact Motherhood September 2022

In the Weeds

I have written about it before; the end of summer and cusp of fall is always a time of transition for us. This year is no exception. The wildness of summer slips away slowly, and we embrace more civilized routines. Time is always moving forward, and I find myself reflecting on all of the changes and insights we, as a family, have gleaned over the past decade 

I think it’s common for a young mother to say “no one prepared me for…..”. During those first few years, I remember telling myself,  “it’s only hard for a little while. When they are older and more independent it will get better”. The truth is double digits are just as difficult to navigate. The burden of this stage presents itself in an entirely different way. I may not be sleep deprived, but the mental capacity to deal with the bombardment of attitudes, arguments, and lack of social skills are just as energy depleting. This season is accompanied by the same yearnings for rest that I experienced as a new mother. I find myself saying again, “ it’s only hard for a little while, when they are older and more independent it will get better…” 

I can finally see the pattern. I don’t believe the challenges of parenting will ever cease. I don’t believe raising children, even into adulthood, will stop being strenuous. Although we have not come to those chapters, I imagine this pattern to continue, manifesting in a different way.

The stressors of parenthood are beautiful opportunities to love-harder. To love into those spaces in my heart that opened up when you were born. I couldn't fathom how love could grow and would continue to grow everytime I exercise these muscles. I could not have fathomed how  sacrificial and sacred the journey would have been for me. I am not the same woman I was 10 years ago. Looking back, I am proud of all of the challenges I  have overcome and endured. Because of you, my little loves, I am better for it. 

So while we are in the weeds of the tweens, I will stop telling myself it will get better, and  embrace this time TODAY with great love and patience. It is in this process of endurance that I have grown in wisdom and, above all, love.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come.

Go next to the wonderful artist, Diana Hagues to read her post in our blog circle.

Season of Motherhood April 2022

A dear friend of mine asked me if my heart ached  to put your crib away.  It is not that my heart aches to put it away, it aches because I measure time with the things you outgrow. Your big girl bed seems to swallow you up. The same thought crossed my mind when I laid you in your crib for the first time. There was so much space! You’ll outgrown this space too someday, sooner than I’d prefer… ahhhh there it is…the ache.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artefacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Go next to the wonderful artist Kirsty Larmour to read her post in our blog circle.

Season of Motherhood February 2022

Inflate

Photography has and always will be my form of prayer. Deep within the more vulnerable places of my heart, I’ve always found it poetic that I was bestowed the gift of painting with light. There was a time-not long ago that I found the rhythm of my vocation as a wife and mother irresistibly inspiring. It was from this deep place of love that my creatively flowed. If I am being honest, it’s been a long time since I have felt I could freely create from this place of joy. I see you beckoning me back and I hear the whisperings on my heart. Light is penetrating palaces I’ve felt more comfortable leaving tucked away. There is no freedom in hiding now is there? Inflate- this is my season.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artefacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Go next to the wonderful artist Min Mohd to read her post in our blog circle.

Artifact Motherhood October 2021

Presence

I woke up welcoming the light today; this is what I discovered. The sun made itself at home behind a blanket of gray sky, peeking out every now and then from behind it's cover. Soft-diffused light poured into my bedroom-- a place I rarely photograph. As the stomach flu ravaged our home, I couldn't help but notice how the light felt peaceful in the midst of churning bellies and toilet bowls. As if on cue, the sun came out from behind the clouds for a moment and a tiny rainbow appeared on my son's throw-up bowl. When I thought beauty elusive on such a gray day, she appeared in the most unlikely of places. I only needed to open my eyes and look. I lingered longer than I expected and was truly present.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Jess Cheetham click here to follow the link. https://www.jesscheetham.com/blog/family-caravan-holiday-artifact-motherhood-blog-october-2021

Artifact Motherhood July 2021

To my little loves, 

I can hear Grandma Bea say, “I don’t have favorites…” as a mother of four I know this to be true. However, I DO notice variations in the ease of parenting different personality types among you. It is not a matter of favorites; and everything to do with how we perceive and deal with challenges or differences that arise. It takes work on my part  to accept that you may do things differently than I would. That's where the challenge is for me, especially as you get older and more independent. I have to keep in mind that perspective is everything. So when it seems like we're rubbing against one another, like coarse-grained sandpaper, I want you to keep in mind that I am having to let go. Letting go, my dear, will always be a hard-hard thing for your mother to do.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented April Christoper click here to follow the link.

Artifact Motherhood May 2021

Dear E,

In February bitter arctic air crept south. We aren’t equipped for such a deep freeze in Oklahoma. So cold, we had to blow space heaters on exterior pipes to keep them from freezing. It was the coldest winter I have personally sheltered through. Regardless, the winter wonderland before your eyes was absolutely irresistible. You were already out the door before I could warm myself over a cup of coffee. 

I didn’t see you fall on the ice. I just remember scooping you up off the pavement and attempting to console you, while trying to judge the seriousness of the bump you took on your head. After some observation, your dad and I decided he would take you to the ER. A few hours later we would begin to understand just how significant the fall was.

Eventually we found ourselves sitting in a pediatric neurosurgeon’s office. While the fall to your head caused a mild concussion, doctors discovered, through a CT scan and subsequent MRI, you had a grape sized congenital cyst snugly situated between your brain and skull. The surgeon explained just how much pressure it was putting on the left hemisphere of your brain, while also beginning to thin the bone it pushed against. The recommendation was that we remove the benign spinal fluid filled sac.

Leading up to your surgery,  I put on a brave and calm exterior while sifting through some intense lament internally. While preparing you, all you could talk about was spending the night in the hospital and trying their food.

Surgery day came, and we couldn’t have prayed for a better outcome. You came out of surgery bright, cheerful and very hungry. In between pain meds and studying the menu for your much anticipated meal, all you talked about was a cheeseburger. To my suprise, when it came time to order, you settled on grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“Do you know why I ordered grilled cheese instead of the cheeseburger, mom?” you asked, “because there are children here much sicker than me. I want them to have the cheeseburger.” You went on to explain how a grilled cheese sandwich was much easier for the cook to prepare compared to the cheeseburger. Afterall, there was no need to spend time on your meal when others needed special attention.

You: a little boy coming out of neurosurgery, with no thought of your own physical suffering but focused on the pain others experience.  The fact that you possess such an acute understanding for the plight and feelings of others, while having no concept of how a hospital kitchen works astounded me. It took a minute for me to wrap my mind around your sacrifice. 

This is the part of your story: your resilience, courage, and your continuous outpouring of love that beckons me to look inward and reflect on how I choose to love those around me. A  little boy a few years away from double digits inspires me in the most profound way.  It is how you love and the way you love that makes me pause and step out of my own selfishness; I desire to love in that way too. I pray that your heart continues to love radically, serve those around you, and inspire. Keep going my little love.

Love, 

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Ann Owen click here to follow the link.

Season of Motherhood March 2021

Thawing

I've been tired all winter. Not necessarily from lack of sleep. The kind of tired that seeps into your bones... a cold and numbing tired. The effects of life relentlessly battering against my shore. I feel a thaw slowly creeping in. A thaw that ushers in warmth and peace, melting the aches and pains of my previous season.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artefacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Go next to the wonderful artist Caroline Cuinet Wellings to read her post in our blog circle.

Autumn Shed

To my Children, 

We are well into Autumn by now, in fact I can see winter just on the horizon. Over the years I’ve noticed the Virgina Creeper is the first to turn a brilliant crimson. Letting us know the cusp of fall is upon us. It’s bright red hues, as they creep up our Oaks, always bring a sense of excitement for the shedding of summer’s green glory. Even more so this year, as I anxiously wait for 2020 to come to a close. 

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The changing of a season is always a transitional time for our family. This year is no exception. As I watch the trees shed their leaves from our kitchen sink, I can’t help but feel I am doing the same thing. Shedding emotions and summer routines as we begin a school year at home. 

I never imagined our little family would be on this path. I never dreamed we would gather around our table and dive into some of the conversations we’ve had over the past 11 weeks. I confess, the first few weeks were an intense process of decompressing from brick and mortar. There were a few tears and quite a bit of doubt from all of us. I quickly learned that teaching from home is MUCH different than brick and mortar building or a distance learning plan. I was constantly fighting the deeply ingrained concepts I learned in college while getting my special education degree. It took me a moment to realize those concepts were ideal for a classroom setting, but they don’t quite translate into a homeschool setting. It wasn’t until I shed those concepts and worksheets and expectations that I took the leap of faith to fill our home with conversations from books. To my surprise, everyone has flourished...including me. 

So here we are,  learning accompanied with a sense of wonder and excitement has poured into our home and your hearts. We are devouring books on The American Revolution, the Boston Tea Party,  and Paul Revere. American history has come alive, as we explore our ancestry and those in our family tree who fought in King Phillips war, the American Revolution, and the war of 1812. I’ve never felt such a sense of accomplishment as a mother as I did when you were diving into a book about the founding of the California missions and you immediately made the connection that the American Revolution had just started. Or the time you discovered a giant redheaded centipede climbing along our bricks, and you just about jumped up and down exclaiming that you had discovered an invertebrate. We are learning about fractions as we bake pumpkin bread, visiting Art Museums as we study the Hudson River School Artists and Native American Art.

I couldn’t be more excited for you all.  I am  proud of what we have accomplished here in our home. There is a new found confidence in you that I have never seen. There is a new found confidence in ME. I didn’t know I was capable of homeschooling you while still being able to function at the end of the day. I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t absolutely terrified at the beginning of this process. The thought of being in charge of your education, teaching you to read, and keeping you on reading and math levels was daunting and terrifying. What if I mess up? What if I don’t do a good job?  I have discovered quite the contrary. We aren’t greeted with a sense of urgency during weekday breakfast or dinner routines anymore. It’s a different pace, slow and steady. This journey  is much more relaxed and fulfilling than I ever imagined, and we are right where we need to be. 

As the last of the trees shed their leaves on our little hill, I can’t help but feel we have been doing the same. Shedding what we have been told this process is supposed to look like and really and truly embracing the learning process--wherever it takes us.  As winter inches closer, the trees bare and life dormant, another season will surely bring on it’s own set of challenges, but I can’t wait to see how we blossom in the spring. 

Love,

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Diana Hagues click here to follow the link.

Firm Foundations

To my little Loves, 

Every time we go to the pediatrician's office, the nurse asks if there are any new stressors in the family. I've always answered no. Enter Coronavirus, now I feel like I have an entire list to go through beginning with the death of our beloved pet, COVID, the decision to homeschool, and all the things in between. This has been such a raw year; we are riding the emotional roller coaster of this pandemic. I think the greatest lesson learned so far is the arduous process of letting go. We have been asked to let go of so much during this pandemic: school, community, grief, family.

We lost our family pet at the beginning of the year. I was deeply struck by the realization that as parents we are entrusted with teaching you EVERYTHING.  I don't mean the basics like walking, getting along with siblings, and schooling. I mean we have to lay the foundation for processing the big emotions--emotions that most adults have difficulty getting through. Grief was not a skill I expected to teach; it was never on my radar, especially at such a young age. But there we were, having in-depth discussions and navigating big sorrowful waves of emotion. Losing Gilly was your first experience in losing a loved one.  Not one of you grieved in the same way, each had a vastly different way of handling the process.  I've watched some of you deal with such sorrow in anger, others with confusion, and still others with great sadness. Every step of the way we worked through this new process and pain as family.

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Before you four were born, your father and I had many discussions about your education and carefully laid out THE plan. In retrospect, our journey with schooling has been one detour after another.  I've let go of plan after a plan, and after carefully discerning and reading and reading, we have scrapped THE plan and have committed ourselves to homeschool. It was not a commitment that came easily.  It was a bittersweet process of letting go of a school that we considered our home, while looking forward to and feeling hopeful about the opportunity to teach you this coming year. Intuitively, I know our experiences at our table will be just as wonderful as the previous one and incredibly meaningful to all of us.  

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As I sit here, I can’t help but reflect and feel that the beginning of the year foreshadowed what was to come. I’ve felt a weight on my shoulders, thinking now more than ever I must teach ALL the things. In preparation for our new journey, I was reading Teaching From Rest. Sarah Makenzie spoke to my soul, when she writes,

"... It is so exhausting-sometimes even demoralizing-to realize that our work raising up and teaching our children is never really done. But we must remember that we were never intended to finish it..." Sarah Mackenzie, Teaching From Rest. 

These words have resonated so deeply within me, I'm seeing its theme vibrate across many strings in my life and home, even through the processes of grief and relinquishing of control. 

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The author uses an analogy of the medieval cathedral builders and how they would toil away building these beautiful structures, knowing they would never see the finished product. Regardless, they did so with joy and labored with great care.  My job is very similar; we are at a new beginning, as we crack open our curriculum and have discussions at our kitchen table, I am carefully laying down the foundations, all the while knowing that your life and faith will finish what I am so meticulously building now. Brick by brick,  we will learn how to work through big emotions right along with our phonics and subtraction.  It is my fervent prayer as your mother, that when our time to gather at the table is over,  you have a sturdy foundation to house your beautiful cathedral. I would be lying if I said I didn’t long to see it finished in its complete and utter entirety. But I must remember, I was never intended to finish it. 

Mom

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records, we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Jo Haycock click here to follow the link.

Supporting Details

I have been noticing details lately--specifically light. I don't know if it's my artsy eye or if it’s something deeper in my soul, whispering for me to notice--maybe a little bit of both? Suddenly I am aware the way light pours into my home highlighting the supporting details of my life: leftover toys from yesterday’s adventures, bottles and utensils dotting my countertops, and the endless baskets of unfolded laundry. This is my season, my truth, my journey, my motherhood.

I rouse to the stillness of my home. My first few steps out of bed are typically the most painful, figuratively and literally. Sharp pricks of pain shooting through my heels and up my toes, a direct result from continually and tirelessly making my rounds on the hard surfaces of my house barefoot, consoling a child here, putting out a fire there--the revolving door of troubleshooting between siblings, breakfast, lunch, dinner, laundry. These things continually keep me on my feet. This is my season.

As my first cup of coffee starts to brew, I begin opening all of the windows in our home. So inspired by the light’s ability to drive out darkness, I begin to write light on my heart ... patience, patience, wisdom, understanding, patience, calm... I pray. As the shades are drawn, the sun's rose and copper tones illuminate each room’s imperfect spaces, bringing warmth and joy to my achy bones. The light highlights the beauty of the unfolded towels in the corner. “We’re still here ... waiting,” they seem to say. Or the lone cheerio that greets me in the hallway along with a stray sock that didn’t quite make it to the laundry room, a stark reminder that there will be a day my laundry room won't overflow and the floors will be a little tidier. This is my truth.

In my bathroom, I find light dancing on my vanity and walls, pointing out the tiny handprint pattern that dots my mirror. I can easily let the handprint taunt me into immediately wiping it off. But instead, I choose to admire the masterpiece, thinking of the artist who left their sweet work. I choose to not stress over the mess but embrace the moment; this is a true reflection of my journey.

Typically, every morning starts the same. I follow the path the light lays before me and reflect on what it illuminates: the dishes that pile up in and around my sink, the toys left unattended, the handprints, spills, and dribbles that pattern smooth surfaces, and the trail of cheerios. It is not easy, but I am consciously choosing to find gratitude in these moments, rather than letting them irritate me. I know deep down I won't always wake up to these details. One day these spaces will be organized and clean because there won't be tiny hands and feet to come in behind me. After all, this is motherhood, this is my story, and these are the supporting details.

Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Diana Hagues click here to follow the link.