A Teaspoon of Melancholy

"A Teaspoon of Melancholy" sounds like a rather awesome band name, to be honest. So let's just say right here and right now that I coined it, and that it's mine. *laughs*

Well, anyway, I had a conversation with a coworker today that I feel is important. Or, at least, important to me anyway.:)

So. There are really two sides of me. I like to call them Impulse and Introspection.

Impulse is happy, and fun, and comes up with great ideas for activities and adventures. She likes to shop! Especially when it comes to bargain buys as the seasons change. She talks to strangers (and was really useful during my mission in Japan when I thought, "to the heck with this, I'm going to use my 'Happy Gaijin Who Asks Innocently Pointed Questions Card'") and shares any compliment she thinks with the person whom it involves--because what purpose is there in thinking something nice about someone if you aren't going to share it?

Of course, sometimes she says the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person, but eventually it all works out so there's really no use crying over spilled milk, anyway... 

And then there is Introspection.

Introspection is not a bad person. She's just not overly approachable. :S She is thoughtful and observant, quiet and reserved. She is strong when she needs to be...especially when it involves keeping Impulse from buying things. And then on the flip side she is a different kind of strong, when the going gets tough and lives are on the line. She has held together families and friendships, and she has weathered stress and pain and horrific memories. If Impulse is the glowing skin and fluffy hair of me then Introspection is the backbone, strong and steady and willing to fight for those that she loves.

These days we mostly see Impulse--she is happy, and people are happy to see her.

Which is to say, that I am happy. I really don't get mad or bothered very easily (and when I do, it's like the flame of a sparkler during the Fourth of July--lasting a few hot seconds before withering away into darkness). It just doesn't stick around very long. And when I DO get mad it's always for a reason (particularly if a person does the same thing over and over again. My anger may be a sparkler, but it can be used to light a fuse).

And when I'm sad, well, Introspection is there to help me have a little 'Introspection' about it.

So, now we have that long explanation done and put on paper. So I will lead into the conversation.

Almost every workday my coworker gives me a lift to work. I'm along her way as she drops off her sons at school before we swing around to go to work, so it works out for the both of us. Of course, we are both aware that I could just as easily take the bus to work or get a ride from someone else, but we enjoy the time in which we get to talk.

We've talked about life, trials, addictions, the state of the world, the Gospel, Heavenly Father's sense of humor, and how we need to strive toward goodness. It's been lovely, and I can see us both of us be blessed from it.

During the course of these lifts I have become close to her sons and they to me. As we watch them run off to school, telling them to make good choices and find someone to serve (she always instructs them to do that--Best Mom Ever, I swear), I feel like I am where I want to be.

That this--the family atmosphere and her close relationship with her sons--is where I want to be and what I want to have.

It's what I've ALWAYS been meant to be.

My Grandmother said that when I was little (we went on a trip with my grandparents once), I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. Even then, at four years old, I stood straight and said, "when I grow up I want to become a Mommy and have lots and lots and LOTS of babies."

When she tells the story she cries, and my heart and emotions clench up too with a confirmation that this is right and that I've always known, my whole life long, that I want to be a mother.

But...

I'm not.

I'm not a mother, nor will I be for a while more. Because, well, it's hard to be a mother when you aren't even dating anyone (and I don't have the means to Foster at this time, although I have thought about doing that, because they need love). Nor is that likely to happen any time soon.

So sometimes it hurts. It hurts to work with children and know that I have none--and might not have any. To hold and play and walk with them. And while there is SO much joy involved in spending time with my coworker's boys, sometimes there's a little melancholy. 

But only a teaspoon full.

Because then those same boys tell me that they love me. They say, "Love you Mom, love you Maaike," and head off to school. My coworker tells me that they look forward to the days when I get to drive with them (in contrast to the mornings in which I go to the college for my 7:30 a.m. class and then head off to work afterward). "They call them 'Maaike Days'," she explains.

And I think, "this is okay, this is good. This is joy."

Throw in my roommate's younger brother telling me that he thinks of me as part of the family (I've been in his life since he was three. He's almost thirteen now) and I become complete.

I may not be a mother of any kind right now, but that doesn't mean that I'm not mothering. Or 'Aunting,' as the case may be. I am being a friend, a confidante, a listening ear, a hug-giver and a companion. I am still blossoming within myself, the shining bright parts of me glowing in the warmth of their gaze.

And if that's not enough reassurance, then there are the promises that the Lord has made with me, telling me that one day I will be a mother and a wife, and even a grandmother! I just need to wait in the Lord's timing.

In the meanwhile I am working at my mothering skill, I am expanding my heart and learning to love more and more and more until my cup runneth over.

And so, despite the melancholy, I am happy.

Introspection is nothing if not good at providing me with a little perspective.

(But as a point made out of of levity, 19 year-olds need to stop complaining that they haven't gotten married yet. Seriously.)