“I want to share with you, Mom,” my daughter declares as I plop a plate of apples and peanut butter in front of her while half turned on my way to do something else across the kitchen. Startled by her request, I stop what I’m doing and take a seat beside her. The simple innocence of her appeal brightens the humdrum atmosphere of snack time, bringing us together over the crisp crunch of apples. Her delight in our shared sustenance is palpable and I cannot help but brighten at the purity of her joy.
As we munch together, scooping up globs of creamy peanut butter, it suddenly hits me how clearly children reflect the purity of human need. For a moment, I feel as though I have a magnified view into the heart of humanity as I reflect on her simple request. Each of us are full of needs. The need for nourishment, companionship, purpose, connection, understanding. The need to share our time, gifts and very self with another. Within my children, I see simpler versions of my own needs, and learn from them how voicing my needs to others leads to deeper human connection, just as my response to my children creates a bond of love between us.
Most often, my children’s needs arise at the height of inconvenience. The diaper that needs changing as soon as we are ready to head out the door, and the fall that happens as soon as I sit down with my coffee are often met by inner grumblings. Yet, in this moment with my daughter, I understand how this simple encounter of vulnerability, of two broken people meeting and sharing their needs encompasses so much of what it is to be human. Its a simple, but deep-rooted truth.
Ever since the start of 2023, I’ve had a craving for simplicity within many areas of my life from my wardrobe to my children’s toys, and our ever-active calendar. Sometimes it makes me want to put everything on pause to sort through the unneeded excess of things and events. While at its height, this desire for simplicity can make me unwish all social events and want to get rid of half our possessions, I know its root comes from the desire to live my vocation well.
My welling desire for simplicity is a direct response to the growing beauty of my family.
Because beauty, if looked upon through a foggy lens, becomes dull and dim. We miss the glorious details, the intricate complexities that, once realized, show us a new path to wonder. Children carry this clarity of vision, and mine are constantly teaching me the art of noticing new beauties.
Putting my daughter down for a nap one day, I swung her up and over into her bed, rearranging stuffed animals and smoothing out her quilt. As the timer in my head ticked down the minutes to the sweet lull of afternoon silence, my daughter leaned back and said, “It’s so beautiful, Mom.” The morning prior had been disorderly; a missed nap from my youngest, tempers lost, the kind of day that has a tempestuous mind of its own. I still don’t know what my daughter thought was so beautiful, but the moment she said it, I knew her words were for me. My lenses had fogged up and in that brief moment, she reminded me to pause and see my life for what it was: simply beautiful.
Simplicity is a tool for seeing the beauty of life more clearly. And the more my children and family and life become more beautiful, the more I crave the simplicity to take it all in with a clear lens and open heart.
When I was little, I fell in love with the lupine lady in Barbara Cooney’s Miss Rumphius. Her simple way of bringing beauty to the world through planting flowers mesmerized me, sending me into daydreams of my own beauty planting. On long drives along the highway, the tall, wild lupines always caught my eye, reminding me of the beloved story. I have never had a green thumb, shamefully discarding many a house plant not sturdy enough to withstand my staggered watering and poor pruning. But the simplicity of Miss Rumphius’ task alongside the enormity of the result still inspires me. All she did was focus her lens. After years of marvelous travels and exotic friendships, the most meaningful task she accomplished was to plant more flowers for her neighbors with the intention of making the world more beautiful.
The work of mothering entails the cultivation of beautiful souls, and it requires clarity of vision and vulnerability to accomplish. A family is a dynamic work of living art born from the mind of God. As His humble apprentice, I cannot see the finished piece as clearly as He can, but I can create the space in my life to listen to His step-by-step instructions, meeting Him in the needs of my children and finding Him in the simplicity of snack time apples.
