Nurture

Shortly before we moved out of our apartment community, I met our new upstairs neighbors--a beautiful family: mother, father, and two-year old daughter.  The husband worked at a company within walking distance and came home for lunch everyday.  The mother and daughter went on walks around the apartment community regularly.  One day, we happened to bump into each other, both out for walks with our little ones.  We shared some information about our children and our status as stay-at-home mothers.  From all face-value observations, it seemed that this was an incredibly loving, gentle, educated, stable mother.  Her next comment, though, really surprised me.  After summing up her role as mother, she added, "But really, I am just a babysitter."

I didn't know what to say.  How do you respond to that?  In fact, I have been mulling on it of and on ever since.

I started babysitting when I was eleven, and I think I did a pretty good job.  I brought games and books with me.  I was attentive and aware.  I followed bed-time regimens, and tried to leave the house cleaner than I found it.  Over the years, I had a few regular babysitting jobs, ones where I was called several times a month, sometimes every Friday night.  I suppose I had some attachment to those children.  But, it was still just a job, and not my full-time responsibility.

It could be very easy for me to think of myself in terms of babysitter.  I could, if I let myself, see my mothering as just mechanical fulfillment of needs.  Change diaper.  Feed baby.  Go on walk.  Read books.  Nap.  (start over)....The routine could become monotony, drudgery, and obligation.

As I have pondered my neighbor's comment, the word that keeps coming to mind is perspective.  Especially a long-term perspective, a wide-angle view, the big picture.  The answer is in The Plan of Happiness, which is a plan for families.  The Plan of Happiness is our long-term perspective.  It is how we understand where we came from, and why we are here, and where we are going.   With an understanding of those critical questions, family becomes infinitely more meaningful.  We can appreciate that we are created in the image of God, and have divine potential, and so do our children.  We can appreciate that we made a choice to come here for a season of testing with a physical body, and our children made the same choice.  We can appreciate that we are stewards and partners with God in loving and leading them.

I am impressed with this statement in The Family: A Proclamation to the World:

"Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children."  

That single sentence is the only thing that is directed specifically to mothers.  Other parental guidelines are outlined, but only this one sentence for the role of mother.  Honestly, I don't exactly understand the how of nurturing.  I do appreciate a definition by Julie B. Beck, former Relief Society General President.  She defined nurturing as, "to help to make grow."  Nurture is ever so much more than a checklist.  Nurture goes beyond task, chore, or duty.  What does seem apparent is that to nurture requires time, patience, consistency, and diligence.

Nurture also implies that you have a vision of future potential.  If you nurture a plant, to help it to grow, then you must first believe in its potential to grow.  Why give careful attention to something that you doubt will become better?  Mothers who nurture their children believe in their children's divine worth.  They anticipate their greatness and future potential.  They seek inspiration in encouraging that potential.  Nurturing children is best accomplished in partnership with God; He who knows us best and loves us most.