Way Leads on to Way

"I'm realizing that I may not be able to get where I want to be career-wise without sacrificing my family," my husband said. "And I'm not willing to sacrifice my family."

Our little boy slept in the backseat, and I rested my hand on the back of my husband's neck, my fingers in his hair. Love for this man made my eyes water--that he would see this, that he would set aside his ambition for us. It made me consider my own ambition to see my novels successfully published and read.

Ambition has a funny way of shape-shifting. I want to be published, I used to think. Then I saw my short stories in journals, my articles in magazines. Well, I clarified, I want my novels to be published, to see readers ruminating over life in a new way after interacting with my art. Couldn't God be glorified in this way?

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and being one traveller, I must choose one. To be the writer I used to dream of being (according to the time table I'd set), I'd have to sacrifice my family. I can no longer lock myself in office, the outside world be deviled, immersing myself in novel with more consideration for characters than for flesh and blood until typing the words "The End." Instead, I snatch bits and pieces of writing during nap times between mopping the floor and chopping vegetables for dinner. And when Keegan awakens, I close computer and immerse myself in child's play, shaking maracas and chasing boy and tickling belly. Characters hover at the edge of my mind. Perhaps I overhear a conversation as I pat-a-cake or grasp an image as I roar like a lion. I tuck these snippets away to jot down another time.

The time for researching the business-side--agents and publishers and my book is like--the time for hobnobbing and connecting and networking, that road is distinctly less traveled.

True, this may be a stage. As children become more independent, I will someday return to the business side of writing and to a more prolific daily word count. But in this stage, I learn: that more than delighting a book club, I desire to delight my son for his smile pays better; that the art of caring for family glorifies God as much as the art of penning words; that being a mother may mean I'm not as successful a writer, but being a mother makes me a better writer.

This last thought I said to my husband that night on our drive home, our bellies full from dinner (and flan for dessert!), our hearts full from love. "It's not just the fodder," I said, "but my understanding of the world, of love, of God. I think this is true for business too. You may be a less successful businessman in the world's eyes, but you will be a better businessman." Care for family flows out into the world.

I don't mean to suggest that you must be a parent to be a good writer, businessperson, pilot, farmer. I mean that in this, in mothering, God teaches me, and I doubt if I should ever come back.

Heather A. Goodman loves discovering new paths with her family. Sometimes, these paths weave themselves into her writing.

Comments

[Glynn]

We think of it as giving something up -- but it's giving something up as the world defines it. God sees it as protecting, enhancing and nurturing something -- something more important. I "gave up" a lot of things for my "career," and I don't have one regret.

My guess is that the time you're spending with Keegan now is going to come back a hundred fold in your writing.

[Jeanne Damoff]

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes. To all of it.

Love to you and your better businessman and your tiny little teacher of so much that is priceless and beautiful and eternally good.

Jeanne

[Anita]

This is beautiful and brave. I applaud your decisions, and know the world will be better when more of us prioritize people over things. It was, afterall, what Jesus did.