Like Mother, Like Daughter

"Look, Mommy!"

I stopped typing and swiveled my chair to give 4-year-old Olivia my full attention. She pointed to her latest endeavor.

"Wow! That's neat," I replied, studying the line of colorful boxes that filled the page. "What is it?"

"It's a mail machine," she proudly explained. "I'm going to use it when I'm a mail lady."

Olivia's newfound interest in the postal service stemmed from a television program we'd seen earlier that week. On it, a young girl tagged along from start to finish in the delivery of a letter to her grandma.

While her interest in mail was recent, what Olivia said next was nothing new. "I'm going to deliver letters after I have my three kids."

For months, Olivia had been sharing with me about her desire to be a mommy. Our conversations seemed to focus more and more on her future kids. She went on to tell me, "I have names for my boys, but I don't have a name for my girl yet."

"That's OK. You still have time," I assured her. "So what are your boy names?"

"Elf and Happy Baby March. But when he's a kid, I'll only call him March."

Poor kids, I thought to myself with a smile. But later, as I reflected on the events of the day, I was drawn back to our conversation.

Olivia's enthusiasm made both postal work and motherhood sound so effortless. I don't have much experience in mail delivery, but I do have a few years' experience as a mother. And motherhood isn't a breeze: It often feels like a never-ending cycle of balancing work-related deadlines with kissing boo-boos, disciplining through temper tantrums and preparing my daughter's favorite mayonnaise, tomato and pickle sandwich day in and day out. In the midst of survival-mode parenting, I often lose sight of the importance of my role as "Mommy." That is, until a conversation like this one derails me from my routine.

The high calling of motherhood

More and more, the thoughts Olivia shares with me communicate a sobering message: She wants to be a mommy when she grows up. Just like me. As she watches me live out my role, her tender heart is drawn to this calling.

When I consider that my daughter's aspiration is to be a mother, I'm reminded that being a mom is no small thing. My daily example has the power to teach Olivia that it's a high calling worth pursuing and not the insignificant drudgery our culture often paints it to be. I love what 20th-century writer G.K. Chesterton once wrote about motherhood:

[W]hen people begin to talk about this domestic duty as not merely difficult but trivial and dreary, I simply give up the question. For I cannot with the utmost energy of imagination conceive what they mean. . . . No; a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.

From Olivia, I'm learning to do what Chesterton so poignantly pointed to: embrace "the hugeness" of my role and meet each day with the excitement I see in Olivia as she dreams of one day walking in my shoes.

It's all worth it

My granddaughter celebrated her first birthday today. OK, so technically my daughter is too young to make me a grandma. And my "granddaughter" happens to be a plastic doll. Yet the "birthday girl's" material makeup didn't stop Olivia from throwing a party complete with cake, candy and a large guest list. Tigger, Pink Bunny, several stuffed kitty cats and my middle daughter, Ava, all showed up for the celebration.

As I watched my little girl imitate what she's seen me do, I'm reminded once again that it's ultimately worth the effort. Every single moment. I look forward to the day when I will be a grandma, watching my daughter no longer dreaming of her future kids, but actually living out what she learned through my daily example as a mom.