two summers ago i attended a women’s conference in montreat, north carolina. there, we examined and discussed the various and brillient ways in which women are making a difference in the world. i was inspired by talk of women who brought about peace in liberia, founded women’s shelters, and lived lives of compassion in calcutta. but i was also discouraged about the modesty of my own little life as a part-time minister and full time mother. i felt the urge to do something bigger and more important, and when i expressed this to the speaker in a forum full of conferees, i opened myself up to the following feedback that came to me from all directions for the rest of the week. it generally went something like this:

“you are young, and smart, and your life is full of potential for making a difference inside of your home and out in the world. your motherhood is every bit as important as your career; the effect you have on your children is equally as important as the effect you have as a minister. YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO IT ALL AT ONCE. there are seasons of your life that are spent largely at home, and there are seasons that can be spent engaging with the world one important project at a time. be patient. don’t get ahead of yourself. enjoy every season for the pleasures it brings and the good it allows you to do.”

this is really good advice, however cliche it has become. and i try to remember it when it feels like what i’m doing is too small, and when i’m trying to resist the urge to cram my already full life with preschool fundraisers, additional preaching gigs, ideations of elaborate dinner parties, books i want to write, et cetera.

at its worst, the seasons metaphor could lure women into satisfaction with lives that are too small. but for me, a constant crammer of too many activities into folds of time and space that are not built to hold them, the seasons metaphor serves its best purpose. it helps me to see the advantages of my current season, and it makes me want to embrace them for the short-lived gems that they are.

pictured in this post are eight seasons paintings i created for my dad for christmas ’09.

[sources for this post may be found on the bibliography page located in the sidebar to your right.]

i’ve already lamented that our society’s motherhood prototypes are extremes that are not available (or even desirable) to many of us. apparently, i am not the only one desperately looking for moms who model a different way. sarah blaffer hrdy, an anthropologist trained in sociobiology, was on this search too, only she turned to our primate ancestors and documented her findings in her 1999 book, mother nature.

hrdy’s study of primate mothers revealed that they were concerned with both the hands-on nurture of their children and the exercise of seeking status in their communities. for example, chimpanzee mothers worked hard to secure high-demand commodities like food and shelter. “their ambition helped their children to survive and, as a result, was the ultimate form of mother care” (warner, 151). it is part of our “evolutionary history” to want to care for our children and contribute to our communities in ways that benefit ourselves and others (warner, 151).

the difference is that in primate communities, these two instinctual needs were integrated and supported. there were ways for primates to develop a sense of agency while their children were only an arm’s reach away. the notion that women must choose between child-nurture and status/agency is a product of the culture we’ve created and not a sign of our natural tendencies.

if you’re not into the evolution thing, please don’t go apeshit! at the very least, primate life can inspire us to try to integrate the elements of life that matter instead of choosing between them.