Helen Martin’s Blog

Whenever anyone says, “Motherhood is such a sacrifice,” I don’t know what they’re talking about. To me, motherhood—particularly stay-at-home motherhood—is an unspeakable luxury. I’m not insane. I know it’s hard. But “sacrifice,” to me, implies a choice. And I would not choose to do anything other than what I’m doing. That includes pursuing a dream I have had for a very, very long time. What dream…?

Here’s a hint:

As my 40th birthday approached, a long held idea got very shaky. Up until then, I had always thought that if God wanted me to do something about this dream, it would probably be revealed to me when my kids were older; maybe even grown. I had a somewhat natural feminine reaction to a new decade, but along with the stunning, “I’m almost 40,” another alarming realization began to dawn on me. “Every day that passes makes me more wrinkled and less marketable! How did this happen?”

For a couple of years now, I have periodically suffered simultaneous feelings of urgency and hopelessness, like I needed to either start the grieving process, or get moving before it was really too late. Neither was appealing; neither felt possible.

Of course I wasn’t going to venture out looking for opportunities. Many days I don’t feel like I have time to do the bills, let alone “pay my dues.” It was even a struggle to pray about it because I would get confused about what I wanted. Clearly, in this season of my life, the only way my singing “borders” are going to be enlarged is if God does it. And He hasn’t. But the thought that my dream would die before I ever had a chance to try simply broke my heart.

I don’t know how to end this post except to say, I’m better now. If I weren’t, I could never post this picture; I couldn’t tell this story. More than most things, I cringe at the idea of being perceived as a wannabe. But in this picture, when I was belting out the last line of Etta James’ “At Last,” at one of my very best friend’s wedding reception, I didn’t just wanna be… I was. There is nothing like it in all the world.

God is not limited by the numbers on my birth certificate. He doesn’t plant talents and desires just to frustrate them. I cried and grieved needlessly. I had fallen victim to a false dichotomy; I hadn’t any choice to make. It’s wonderful to be able to relax, and to trust, and to return to peace. I’m so relieved.

Thank You, Father. Thanks Amy. Thanks [Luann](http://www.beesweet.com/blog/)