Labors of Love

I always enjoy reading Megan's Musings *, but I can really relate to her last couple of columns. A) I, too, have ALWAYS dreamed of being a cowboy, and B) I'm feeling rather restless right now, almost aimless. I have all sorts of creative energy, but I can't figure out where I want to put it exactly. So I end up baking and eating way too many chocolate chip cookies, and I find myself fretting over all sorts of things that may or may not ever matter. Seeing as how I'm a whole lot older than Megan and in a different phase of life, I am beginning to realize that these little rough spots in the road are not something that anybody grows out of. I guess the only good thing about being my age and coming to this realization is that I know the road is likely to smooth out again. Soon, things will start making sense, and I'll resume my travels in some kind of purposeful direction.

But as a mom, I now tend to scrutinize the subtleties of life's journey with an eye on the future—my children's future. Obviously, they will also experience moments, days, weeks of floundering. It's the human condition. But how will they deal with it?

I want them to have what people call “moral compasses,” the spiritual strength to know the basic differences between right and wrong, but let's face it, compasses can fail even the best of us at times. Things aren't always black and white. Occasionally a gray fog drifts in that makes it hard to figure out which direction to go. That's why I also want each of my kids to have what I call a “well-stocked tool box” full of skills for them to fall back on when they flounder. It has been shown time and again that people who grow up with positive outlets for their energy aren't as apt to crumble onto crutches like drugs and drink. They don't break easily, you see, they build.

The best means I know of to stock a kid's tool box is to start them out young, working from the get-go on labors of love. I don't mean like sitting here at the computer, pecking at the keys. Sheesh—as much as I love writing, it's enough to drive a person mad after awhile. I'm talking more about physical labor, the kind that gets your hands dirty and makes you sweat, the kind that wipes the brain slate clean and sets you straight. The kind of labor that, if you do it right, you can love for a lifetime. Creative skills and a good work ethic stick with a person, even though sometimes you might feel you've misplaced them. Lately, I've been looking for mine—I know I put them someplace—because I'm just not comfortable with the concept of crutches (even if mine may be as innocent as chocolate chip cookies).

The tough part, as a mom, is learning to lead by example. When I'm feeling unfocused, it's a real challenge to channel my chaos so that I can inspire my kids to do the same. I get tired, and I don't feel like being a role model for anybody. But it's my job, for better or worse. Even though I'd rather crawl off with a good book than set a shining example, my own tool box is bringing me back on course. What I need right now is some real work, and all the rest will fall into place.

So, I broke out my saw, drill, and sand paper. Literally. There is so much promise in the raw surface of an uncut board. I don't have any training or finesse as a woodworker, but I like winging it. As I suspected, it has felt good to put my hands to work, making toy boats and birds, finding my way to clarity in the grain of cedar and pine. And it hit me, like a hammer to the thumb, that this is what my kids need too. This is what all kids need. Whether it's wood, farming, sports, or music, they need something they can put their hearts—and hands—into. We all need a labor of love to lean on when the world seems to tilt the wrong way.

As my fog began to lift, I placed wood and files into the hands of my girls. Even my toddler took to sanding and sorting drill bits. We've been scraping knuckles, kicking up dust, and cramping from being stooped over too long (well, okay, I'm the only one with a backache). But we've also been sharing tools, learning from one another's mistakes, and complimenting each other's creations. We've been working together, building a surefooted family with sensible skills. I can only hope that for all my shortcomings, I will be able to give my little ones the tools they need to stand strong in the years to come.

* "Megan's Musings" is a column in my local newspaper written by an insightful-to-say-the-least college student .