Irreplaceable

I am the kind of person who likes to leave a mark on everything I do.  I always dreamed of being the Keynote speaker, the inspiration to women on topics of motherhood, womanhood, child rearing, and patriotism (to name a few).  I love writing and would LOVE to publish a book someday.  I even have a few titles in mind: Perfection Walls or Garbage Bags and Bread Crumbs.  I really enjoy writing cute rhymes and hope to get back to a point where I can write and publish a few children's books - my imaginary friend Sir Belvis in his baggy MC Hammer pants, oversized baseball cap, and blue cadillac being the hero of my adventures and tales.  And I love to write music.  I have written a few songs and even been blessed to perform some of them, and maybe one day I'll get to publish a book of songs.  I would also LOVE to be part of an a capella group again someday (and I do mean L-O-V-E it!).  Add to that list my physical goals and desires, paramount being to run a marathon, maybe even ten or twelve and get to the point that I can actually compete in them and maybe even qualify for the Boston Marathon.  I would also love to run a Community Service/Community Action Youth Program someday, perhaps even putting into motion the program outline I began writing for a non-profit organization in Washington, D.C. before I gave it all up to get married to the man of my dreams.

Among my many wonderful memories that I have gathered in my mind's treasure box through the years is a memory of a three-year-old girl named Kathleen.  Kathleen was the oldest of three girls.  I used to babysit her and her sisters while her parents went to the temple.  I was amazed at how smart and on top of things she was!  She was a mini-me of her mother, and if her sisters hadn't learned lessons and life routines on their own yet, she filled in and often reminded them with things like, "No, Shara, remember Mommy says we don't eat anything until after we say a prayer."  I remember watching and listening to this young three-going-on-twenty-something and having the strongest feeling of awe and reverence come over me.  I thought, "Heaven help this family if anything ever happened to their mother!  And heaven help the woman that tried to fill Lisa's shoes.  She is irreplaceable to them.  And her shoes cannot be filled by anyone else."  I knew it was true.  They might enjoy me for a while, laugh with me, play with me, read books with me, play the piano and sing with me, but I was not and never could be their mother.  And all the things I was doing with them -- well, I was just going through the motions of the foundation their mother had already laid, and laid so well that it could not be easily shaken.

Many times in my life I have feared being replaced, not being an irreplaceable in roles and situations that will forever be one of a kind and irreplaceable to ME.  I have a great fear of passing through this life like the main character in Wit - hardly noticed and completely alone, having lived a life that was full of chasing dreams and aspirations that are ultimately no more meaningful than a name on a plaque or engraved in a cement bench in an empty park.  Before I got married, I even saw myself in Julia Roberts' role in Mona Lisa Smile - the successful, intelligent, innovative, passionate woman who was moving so quickly to accomplish and fulfill her own dreams that she missed out on relationships - chasing a dream that never left her with roots and branches. I am a friend who prizes sincerity first, last, and always.  I try not to say things I don't mean to merely flatter or feel good myself for having said it, intervened, been a "good" friend.  I try very hard to leave no message or phone call unanswered, unreturned. Most of this is because I want people to know they are important to me, and I hope to get the same reciprocity from my friends to know that I matter to them. 

This afternoon I put a movie on for Abby and Isaac to watch while I went in the kitchen and made pizza crust for our dinner "party" we had tonight with their old nursery teacher from church and her daughters.  As I turned to walk out of the room, Abby looked at me and said, patting to the sofa cushion next to her, "Mommy, sit by you?"  I told her just a minute, planning to quickly make the dough and then go sit by her while it rose for 15-20 minutes.  But it just so happened that I never did stop until long after the dough was made, dinner was served and finished, the company left, and my kids were in bed.  And here I sit with the memory of Kathleen and the sweet pleading eyes of Abby etched on my mind.

In her, I finally have my totally irreplaceable role!  No one else (hopefully) will ever be her mommy! And I know there are so many moments in each day when I can do better to make sure that she is getting the most out of me, that the unshakable foundation only I can give her is firmly in place!