These Small Hours

I am a woman of hopes and dreams, a woman of fears and passions. I am strong and weak and emotional and sometimes sensible. But at the end of it all, I am still a woman.  It is my womanhood that defines me more than anything else. I am a mother, I am a wife because I’m a woman. All that I do and think and feel and say springs from my womanhood.

What does it mean to be a woman, especially a Latter-Day Saint woman? In my life it means that I play many roles. In my home I am the cook, the maid, the nanny, the bookkeeper, the bill-payer, the garbage-taker-outer, the garbage-can-taker-outer, the gardener, the lawn-mower, the entertainer, the comforter, the spiritual guide, the pray-er, the rule-setter, and the enforcer. To the outside world, I am a Cub Scout leader, a coworker, a daughter, a sister, a chorister, a smile, a friend.

Tonight emotions came unbidden to my heart for no reason. I cooked dinner, laughed with my husband and kids, cleaned up, and went to our Relief Society book club meeting to discuss a book that I very much enjoyed. Despite the satisfaction of each activity, I felt a heavy heart as I walked home from my friend’s home. As I put the kids to bed and sat with my husband, it seemed my heart became heavier and heavier until I lay in bed crying while my husband slept.

Life is not bad, and yet life seems to be so much less than happy right now. Joe & I had a tiff last week that is still bothering me somewhere in the back of my mind. I don’t know that I want to share the details of that episode, and yet I wish I could. It seems that burdens are often easier to bear when they are shared. Suffice it to say that I am tonight questioning some of my decision-making abilities.

Tonight at book club, I looked around at the different ladies, and I felt comfortable with them. I knew each woman, I admire and love each in a way, and I know that I will (almost) always get smiles and friendly words returned from each of them. And yet, not one of those women is my close friend, the kind you can call on to borrow paprika and who brings you cookies just for fun and who doesn’t question your choice in books, and you can show up at her back door in your pajamas and know she loves you just the same.

Don’t take me wrong, I am not discrediting any of the wonderful women I associate with in my ward, they are all marvelous in their way. But I long for more. Sometimes a husband just isn’t enough, especially when he is as hard-headed as mine. I guess I just hope that the smiles and friendly words I share with those around me are received by someone who needs them.

The hardest part about being a woman is the necessity to keep on going. No matter what is happening in our lives, I get to be strong and hold it all together for them. I don’t get to say I don’t want to be a mommy today. I don’t get to leave the house not cleaned or the laundry not done, because there is no one else to do it. I keep on playing all my different roles and juggling life for us. I hope that the woman I am becoming is learning valuable lessons from my woes and heartaches. For now all I can do is stand up and keep moving forward and hope that what it is I desire is what the Lord wants for me as well.

Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulder, don’t you know, the hardest part is over. Let it in, let your clarity define you, in the end we will only just remember how it feels.

Let it slide, let your troubles fall behind you. Let it shine, until you feel it all around you, and I don’t mind if it’s me you need to turn to, we’ll get by. It’s the heart that really matters in the end.

Our lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours still remain.