Why I am Glad I am Just the Age I am: Birthday Reflections

When my mother was in her mid 80s, I remember her sitting in her chair in the TV room, knitting while my Dad lay on the couch, watching a basketball game. As I sat with them on an evening visit, she said unexpectedly, “I wish I were 70 again!” My Dad’s interest left the game and turned to her, “Why do you say that, Leah? If you are going to wish to be a different age, why not 30, or 40, or even 25, when you were young and strong?”

Mama went on with her knitting steadily, maybe stopping a minute to count stitches. Then she continued. “No, 70. That was just about the perfect age. The children were raised and well settled in life, I didn’t need to go to work, and I was still healthy enough to do pretty much whatever I wanted to.” 

At the time, I thought this was pretty funny, that my mom would see 70 as the ideal age. In my early 50s at the time, I thought 70 was very advanced in age, and certainly not much better than 80. 

But now, at 68, I see it. My sister, 10 years older than I, reminded me of how our mother would say this. And now she repeated it: “Remember what mama said. You are approaching the perfect age.”

So here are reasons why I am glad I am just the age I am:

1.    As Mama pointed out, I’m old enough not to have to go to work. I get to spend my time doing pretty much whatever I want to do. And if the weather is bad, I can just stay home until the roads are cleared.

2.    At the same time, I am young enough that I’m still healthy. I can walk and hike and clean my house and garden. I can travel and I can play with my grandchildren. I can go to the gym every day and lift weights. Pretty much, I feel as active as ever.

3.    But I appreciate my health more, knowing that it may not last. As I run up the stairs I’m thankful for my knees because I know they won’t always work this well. As I race to catch a bus I rejoice that I can. 

4.    I am even more thankful for my husband. Someone once told me that in midlife everyone gets a little frustrated with their spouses, but if you wait a few years they begin to look better. It’s true: foibles and shortcomings have become endearing. Strengths and kindnesses are even better appreciated, especially when I look around at so many of my friends who have lost their husbands already.

5.    My children are adults, well settled in life. I don’t feel responsible for them, so I can enjoy them as friends. We can chat on the phone and laugh over funny stories. They even give me advice which makes my life better. It’s also kind of nice to be old enough they are beginning to feel like they need to look after me a little. It’s a nice payback, when they give me a new electronic device and say, “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll set it up for you!”

6.    I have friends I cherish—friends who have known me for decades and yet still like me. We have seen each other through hard times and good times. We care deeply for each other and help each other through whatever we face.

7.    I also have friends much younger than I. They probably see me as old, but I feel like I am just their age, maybe because I hold that age within me. Having younger friends makes me feel young.

8.    I’m thankful for a challenging career and for all I learned from that satisfying work. I’m especially thankful for former students and colleagues who have stayed friends. 

9.    I have the perspective of years. I know that hard things will pass.

10.  And I know the importance of savoring the good moments.

11.  I have tested the promises of the Savior and know He really does help us get through hard times.

12.  I know that, with the Savior’s help, the hard times are what made the best parts of me.

13.  At this point, I’m willing to recognize what I do well and understand my responsibility to foster and share those talents.

14.  I also don’t compare myself with others so much. I’ve lived long enough to know that we all have different strengths. I am glad for others’ strengths; I am blessed by them. I am glad for my own strengths; I can bless others with them. It’s a great system.

15.  I also see clearly where I need to improve, and I am grateful to have time to do that—all eternity in fact.

I am just the right age--and probably this is true at every age-- to flourish and learn, still young in the eternal sense, but growing. 

Keep Trying -- or Maybe Not

When my mom was about 9 years old in the early 1920s, she decided she would bake a cake while her grandma and mother were out of the house. The only problem was that at that time they still had a wood-burning stove, and she didn’t know quite how to maintain a proper baking temperature. When she opened the oven door after the right amount of time, she would tell me, her planned surprise cake was an ooey gooey mess. She was so embarrassed to have wasted all the precious ingredients that she hurriedly dug a hole in the back yard and buried all the evidence.

I always thought this was a cute story, but today I totally understand. 

First some background. 

One of my favorite things to do is to watch those baking videos on Facebook—you know the ones where the ingredients magically appear in the glass bowl, and then with a snap of the fingers they are mixed, and then a few seconds later the delicious concoction is on a plate and a fork full is held up to the camera looking absolutely irresistible.

Well, one video I have watched over and over is for Absolutely Amazing Chocolate Cake. It looked not only fabulous but totally doable. So last week when I was asked to bring a cake to a funeral lunch I thought this was the perfect moment to make the Absolutely Amazing Chocolate Cake. 

The layers baked up well and smelled divine, though they looked a tad lopsided. I waited the requisite 15 minutes and then tipped them out of the pans. That is, I tipped part of each layer out of the pan—part was loath to leave its comfy residence in the baking pan. 

No problem. I pieced the layers together, let them cool completely, and commenced assembly of the layers. Once stacked, the lopsidedness was even more pronounced. I’m not sure what I did to the frosting, but, rather than holding the layers together, it was more like a lubricant inducing a tectonic shift. 

In despair, I watched my beautiful layer cake slide slowly but surely toward the side. 

Then I called my son and asked him to pick up a cake from Costco for the funeral.

Our family ate my cake the next day, which actually did taste amazing. So this week, with a birthday dinner planned for Sunday, I decided I would perfect my Amazing Chocolate Cake. My amazing baker friend told me how to trim the layers and freeze them before assembly, so the structure would be more sturdy. I also learned to line the baking pans with parchment to ease getting them out.

This morning I carefully prepared my pans with parchment paper and mixed up the yummy batter. I measured out the batter into each of three pans. The recipe said to put about 3 cups of batter in each pan, but, hey, I had extra, so I just divvied it out equally among the pans. 

Midway through the baking time I smelled burning chocolate. I peeked in the oven to find all three pans were overflowing onto the racks and the bottom of the oven, bubbling over like three volcanoes of molten lava, flowing relentlessly toward the burners.

By the time I took the pans out, the house was filled with smoke so thick that vision was obscured.  Paul appeared, crying out, “What happened? Is the house on fire?” 

Then he rushed about opening windows and turning on fans. I stared at the remains of my totally amazing cake. The layers had totally collapsed, admittedly in a rather amazing way. 

Ever the optimist, I told Paul they could still be rescued with frosting. Then I tasted the cake. Amazing chocolate flavor,  with deep nuances of smoke. 

Wisely, Paul insisted we take the cake immediately out to the trash.

Looks like a Costco birthday cake after all. 

But you know, I think I’ll try again. I know how to fix this—just 3 cups of batter per pan! Parchment paper!  Trimming and freezing to avoid the lopsided layers!

As Abraham Lincoln said, “I’m doing the best I can, the best way I know how, and I will continue to do so.” I can just keep trying, and maybe my best will get better. 

Or maybe I should just admit that we all have different talents and leave the cake baking to Costco and my amazing neighbor.

Christmas Babies

This Christmastime I’m thinking a lot about helpless little babies.  We have a new baby in our family, and sometimes when I hold little Lucia, I think of how not long ago she was in the spirit world, a conscious being, making decisions for herself. She made the decision to come to earth, to be given a body, and to try to follow God’s plan. At the Council in Heaven, when she learned of this wonderful plan, she, along with all of us, shouted for joy at this chance to obtain a body. 

But then she was born, and this body she had yearned for is tiny and helpless. Her head bobbles about, her tiny little fingers are useless. She can’t do anything for herself but eat and cry. Sometimes I hold her and tell her it’s OK. She will learn and grow and someday return to live in heaven again.

I think of that other baby. There in Bethlehem, over 2000 years ago, heaven and earth came together as the son of God, the creator of the world, the great Jehovah of the Old Testament, was born a tiny little baby to a frightened young mother in a humble stable. Like Lucia, He was confined to a weak and powerless body, his head bobbling, his fingers useless. He did this for us, to fulfill a plan made before the beginning of the world. He came to teach us. He came to save us. 

And when He was born--when the word was made flesh, when the promise of the great council was fulfilled--the angels in heaven sang. “For unto you is born this day. . . a Savior, which is Christ the Lord . . . Glory to God in the highest.” (Luke 2:10) Little Lucia--and all of us--were likely among them.  

This little baby Jesus grew—“waxed strong”—and became our great example. As a mortal himself, he was able to teach us how to live as mortals. He taught us to love one another, to pray for our enemies, to bless them that despitefully use us. But more than teaching us, he showed us how to serve. He helped the hungry, the blind, the paralytic, those who mourned. 

And for this we sing Glory to God. Through all his actions, he showed us how to look around us and do what we can to help one another.  As little Lucia grows, she will learn to follow Jesus’s example, to strive to heal the wounded and the weary around us, to help those who cannot see his light. She will bring joy to others as she serves, and through her service she will be changed in her heart, become better, more holy.

But Jesus the Christ is more than just a good example. There have been many wise teachers and good examples in the world. Though Jesus was born as a helpless baby, He was not truly mortal.  He was and is the Son of God and filled with God’s power. He not only helped those who were blind, he gave them sight; he not only soothed the paralytic, he bade him walk, he not only comforted the grieving family, he returned the daughter to life. Through Christ’s Power, he was able to not only help others in their need, but to take away their suffering.

When I look to the future of our tiny innocent Lucia, I want to see only joy and happiness. But because I know we were all sent to earth to be tested, I know that she will also face sorrow. Someday she will go to nursery and some other kid will take away her toy. Someday on the school playground, some mean kids will make her cry. At some future time, some boy will doubtless break her heart. And because we all live in a mortal world, she will face sickness and sorrow and even death.

 But Christ knows the sorrows Lucia will face. Alma taught that, through the atonement, Christ  “will take upon him [our] infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy . . ., that he may know . . .how to succor his people according to their infirmities.(Alma 7:12.)

Jesus Christ knows our hearts and our sorrows, for he has suffered our sufferings. Because he has felt what we feel, he knows just how to help us. And He doesn’t wait until the end of our life to help us—he, through his great atoning sacrifice, knows just how to help us all along the way. He is with Lucia to help her all through her mortal journey; He is with each one of us, yearning to help us every day.

No wonder we sing Glory to God.

Perhaps the greatest reason to praise God at Christmas time is that He was born to die that all of us might live forever. He has made a way for us to return to live with Him and Heavenly Father forever.

When Lucia-- and all of us-- shouted for joy at the Heavenly Council,  she knew she needed to come to earth so she could receive a body.  She knew she needed to learn and grow, so she could become more like her Father in Heaven and her older brother Jesus Christ. Her goal was to live in such a way that she could return, clean and pure, to live with them again.  

She knew it would be hard, but I don’t think she knew just how hard. I don’t think any of us knew.  I think maybe it was like when I went away to college and I had visions of getting straight A’s and dating a football star. I didn’t know how hard it would be.

Because we live in a mortal world, because we are mortals, we mess up. Even when we know Christ’s teachings, even when we try to follow his example, we make mistakes, sometimes we even willfully choose not to do what He would have us do. Sometimes we leave the path. We don’t stay as pure and clean as Lucia is right now.

But Heavenly Father and Jesus knew we would be weak and make mistakes. They also knew that we couldn’t return to live with them unless we were sinless. So they designed Christ’s great atoning sacrifice.

Lucia and you and I—whatever mistakes we make, we can be made clean, sinless. The scriptures teach “Though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18). Through our repentance and Christ’s atonement, our sins are taken away. Every day we can pray to be forgiven; each week we can take the Sacrament, repent, and become clean. Because of Christ, whatever sins we may commit, we can become as pure as a newborn babe--as pure as little Lucia is now--ready to return to live with our beloved Father in Heaven.  

And for this we sing, Glory to God.

And what do we--Lucia and all of us-- need to do to receive this wonderful gift? Come unto Christ. Reach out to him, love him, trust him. Talk to him in prayer: share our joys and sorrows with Him. Be grateful. Watch for his help. Learn of him by studying his word.  Love and serve each other. Repent when we make mistakes.

That’s all.  Just do our best. He will help us and sustain us all along the way. 

   

That silent night so long ago, Jesus Christ, was born a tiny baby to be our example and friend, our Savior and Redeemer. He came to heal and save little baby Lucia. He came to heal and save each one of us.  

Now at Christmastime, and always, let us rejoice for the matchless gift of God’s divine son. Let us sing again with the angels, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”(Luke 2:14) 

The Year I Ruined Christmas

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBwELzvnrQg

One Christmas time, not long before the big day, when my five children were all still living at home, teenagers mostly, I was madly dashing from one task to another. I think maybe we were having guests that night. I was madly decorating, cleaning, washing clothes, baking, cooking, shopping, wrapping—you know the routine, I’m sure.

Of course, I had given the kids chores too—but it was maybe the first day of Christmas holidays and they were joking and singing and carrying on, happy as can be, but not making headway on their tasks. 

I went on--scrubbing bathrooms, mopping the floor, vacuuming—getting more and more angry at those selfish kids. 

Finally, I called them all to the kitchen for a serious Talk. They gathered around the island still happy and smiling—then I started in.

“Do you think it is fair that I have to do all the work? Do you think it is right that I am working so hard to make a happy Christmas for you while you are just fooling around?”

My voice raised high and higher until I screamed, “I do everything for you so you will be happy at Christmas, and you don’t even appreciate it!”

And then I burst into tears.

Suddenly the smiles and laughter were gone. Confused, the children looked at each other and then at their feet. My youngest’s face began to crumple.

Sobbing, I moved to the family room and sank onto the couch All five gathered around me in the family room. All was silent while I tried to compose myself.

Then my son David, about 14 at the time, a kindly soul and one who can always see comic potential, sat down beside me on the couch and softly patted my shoulder. He comforted me in the kindest tones, “There, there, Mom. Don’t worry. It’s OK.”

I took my head out of my hands and looked at his sweet face.

David continued, kindly and sweetly, simply explaining the obvious, “You don’t need to worry about ruining Christmas.”

I began to tentatively smile. Then he continued, still in the sweetest, most kind tones, “You’ve already ruined Christmas.”

Then I looked around at everyone’s stricken faces, those faces that moments before had been laughing and joking in celebration.

And I started to laugh. 

Because, guess what? They were https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBwELzvnrQghaving a happy Christmas. Until I started yelling and crying.

Soon we were all laughing, because it was funny. I had worked myself into a tizzy to make a happy Christmas, worked so hard I yelled at them and blamed them and yes—ruined Christmas. In an effort to make a perfect Christmas, I ruined it.

And you know what else was funny? 

I didn’t really ruin Christmas. We went on to have a happy time together. And many more happy Christmases since. Because one meltdown does not a Christmas ruin.

But the kids now say, like it’s a family tradition, "When are you going to ruin Christmas, Mom? 

I didn’t totally give up on Christmas meltdowns. But often, when I’m close to one, I remember the year I ruined Christmas and stop to think. I wonder, is whatever I am stressing about really worth ruining Christmas over? And the answer, of course, is no.

So lately the kids have been saying, “Mom hasn’t even ruined Christmas yet. Gosh, Mom. Don’t you have any sense of tradition?”

Matryoshka Dolls and Mother Legacies

Matryoshka dolls, or Russian nesting dolls, are hollow wooden figures fitting one within the other, the smaller into the larger, until the largest holds all the smaller ones. A few weeks ago my daughter presented me with a set of Matryoshka dolls which she had painted herself, each doll representing a generation of women in my family. The largest doll was my grandmother, within her my mother, then myself, then my daughter Mary, and within Mary, the tiniest one—the one representing the little baby girl Mary was currently carrying literally inside herself. 

As I gaze at these dolls now on my mantle, I think of the way each woman carried her child and then taught and modeled how to live. Every child is a part of the mother, and every mother forever holds the child within her heart. Each mother passes to her child that which she received from her own mother—a love of music, a knack for baking, or a great sense of fun.

In this particular line, each woman passed on values of hard work, love, and faith. But also, unusual for the earlier generations, each woman had advanced education, which she used to work outside the home throughout her life.

The largest doll represents my grandmother, Leah Holt, who was born in 1890 in the small Mormon village of Spanish Fork, Utah. At that time in Spanish Fork there was no public education beyond 8^thgrade, which seemed like plenty for the needs of the little farming community. But Leah was not ready to be done with learning, and her father agreed to send her to Provo to attend Brigham Young Academy. Around 1903, Leah moved to Provo to earn a degree in stenography, with skills in shorthand, typing, and bookkeeping. 

Later Leah put those skills to good use, first when she became one of the first lady missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,  serving as secretary to the Southern States Mission president, Charles A. Callis, who presided over 250 missionaries in 10 states. Later still, when her young husband died suddenly, she worked as a bookkeeper to support her two little girls, and later on her widowed mother and her orphaned niece and nephew. She not only supported her family, she contributed to her town through her work. By the time she retired as city clerk at 70, she knew everyone in town, and everyone in town knew and loved her.

The next smaller doll represents my mother, also named Leah. Though money was tight during the Depression, my grandmother made every sacrifice to assure that her girls would go to college. They also made the trek to Provo to attend Brigham Young University. Through hard work and taking summer school, Mom managed to complete her bachelor’s degree in only three years, with a double major in English and music, certified to teach kindergarten through twelfth grade. My mom used her degree to teach a year before marriage, then, when her youngest child (me) entered school, Mom eagerly returned to work. She taught first grade from then until retirement. Some of my favorite memories are hearing the black marker squeak as Mom carefully printed charts for the next day’s lessons.

So, for me, the middle-sized Russian doll in the set, going to college and preparing for a career just seemed normal. I earned a Master’s degree in English, and while my first child was still an infant, I started teaching part-time at the university and continued to teach while raising five children, until I retired as full-time faculty.

Inside of the Russian doll representing me, you would find my daughter, Mary, who, having all her life watched her mother grade papers and plan lessons, also took education and a career as a given. She completed a PhD and took a job teaching at a university with her husband’s full support. 

Now she has her own little daughter, the tiniest Matryoshka doll. 

But I’ve come to think we need one more doll—one to hold my Grandmother doll and all the others within her, one that has influenced the entire line. I have wondered: why did Leah Holt’s farmer father, Samuel Holt, make the sacrifice to invest in educating his daughter, at a time when women were expected not to need an education, to do no more than marry, have children, and work in the home and on the farm?

I believe the answer lies with Samuel’s step-mother, Vigdis Bjornsdottir Holt. Samuel’s mother died when he was only 5, and in 1861 his father married Vigdis, a recent immigrant from Iceland. Before coming to Utah, Vigdis had journeyed from Iceland to Copenhagen to be trained as a physician and a midwife. Once settled in Spanish Fork, she served the medical needs of hundreds of families. Even after her marriage, Vigdis continued to practice medicine. Whenever called, she would mount her horse, with her medical bag strapped behind her, and ride off to help, often without pay. The townspeople lovingly called her Aunt Wickie, and she was so well respected that the local doctor would call her in to consult on difficult cases. She continued practicing until she was over 80.

I believe Samuel Holt saw in his step-mother the way education can prepare a woman to be not only an exemplary mother and homemaker, but also to serve others outside the home. That understanding led Samuel to support his young daughter Leah in getting advanced education, which led Leah to sacrifice so her daughter could attend university, which led my mother to support me in my advanced degrees, and led me to support my daughter in hers.

Which brings us back to that tiniest Matryoshka doll, who has now arrived, and whom I have nestled in my arms, wondering what lies in store for her. I feel the legacy of education, motherhood, and career-service will continue for her. After all, her name includes that of our original example, the beginning of our family legacy: Vigdis.  

The Great American Political Divide (and One Way to Come Together)

Participants of Utah's First Red Blue Workshop 

“Anyone who supports Trump must be stupid. Trump is a despicable person, an embarrassment to the country, and anyone who endorses him is not worthy of respect!”

 “We are in a war of good vs. evil, and those liberal Democrats are evil, attacking good family values!”

If you’ve seen comments like this on your social media, then you will not be surprised to hear that we have a wide and often vitriolic political divide in this country. The Pew Research Center reports that the gap on political values is more than twice as wide as in 1994 (15% compared to 36%) and that around 45% of each party view the opposite party unfavorably. Indeed, many believe that the opposing party is not only wrong but dangerous.

In such a climate of opposition, is it any wonder that Congress has trouble passing legislation? If we won’t even listen to each other, how can we solve the problems of our country? 

I wrote about the problem as I saw it last May, and ended the post with a mention of a Better Angels Workshop I planned to help organize. Now I want to tell you about what happened in that workshop.

First, a little bit about the Better Angels organization. After the 2016 election, a couple of friends belonging to opposite political parties decided the country would benefit from a better understanding of those with differing political opinions. From this desire grew a bipartisan non-profit citizens’ movement called Better Angels. The name borrows from Abraham Lincoln’s First Inaugural Address: 

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory…will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.” (Abraham Lincoln, 1861, First Inaugural Address)

Better Angels works to bring Red and Blue Americans together to have respectful and civil civic conversations. Rather than attempt to change the other sides' mind, participants work to1)understand the other side’s point of view,  2) look for common ground and ways to work together, and 3) support principles that bring us together rather than divide us. 

On a Saturday in July, eighteen people gathered in Provo for Utah’s first Better Angels Workshop. Participants included two trained moderators, six Blues (on the leaning liberal or Democratic spectrum), six Reds (on the leaning conservative or Republican spectrum),and several observers. The workshops always invite an equal number of each side, so that one viewpoint does not dominate the others. We sat around a table –Red, Blue, Red, Blue. I (a straight Mormon Republican woman) sat between a gay man on one side and a transgender woman on the other. And you know what? I enjoyed getting to know them.

The activities of the workshop were carefully planned to allow us to learn about each other. First, we divided into our teams and addressed stereotypes we felt the other side had about us, examining why the stereotypes were wrong and any kernels of truth within them. This got hard feelings on the table and out of the way, and helped us realize how stereotypes are harmful to discussion. This was followed with both sides sharing why they believe their side’s values and positions are best for our country. Then we had an opportunity to ask each other sincere "curiosity questions."

Reflecting on the experience, one participant stated, “I learned that not all conservatives are fascists.”  Another said, “I was really touched to hear the Blue side speak of our Constitution with such reverence.”  Several spoke of wanting to listen better to those with differing political perspectives. One summed up our feelings, “I feel cautiously optimistic about the future of the country.”

So that is what happened at the first Better Angels workshop in Utah. 

Are you intrigued by the possibilities for understanding and progress? Do you wonder what you can do to improve our political climate?  

For one thing, you could check out Better Angels. Consider joining; you will be connected with others in our state who are working to combat polarization.

But even if you don’t do that, try reaching out to those who differ from you politically. Here are some ideas:

·      Try not to pre-judge. 

·      Listen to each other. 

·      Seek to understand reasons behind beliefs.

·      Find areas of agreement.

·      Look for ways to work together for the good of the community and the country.

Disagreeing is not the problem. We need to have different ideas of what is good for the community and the country. That is what it means to be a democracy. Disagreement is built into the Constitution, the two-party system, and our legislative process. 

The problem comes when we assume the other side is irrational and evil. If we believe that, we cannot work toward good policies that benefit the entire country. 

Instead, let us realize that even if we disagree, we are not enemies. Let us listen to each other and to the “better angels of our nature," putting the needs of our country first.

Why We Had Children

Americans are having fewer babies. We’re down 3 percent from 2016, the largest single year decline since 2010.  The “replacement” birthrate would be 2.1; we are now at 1.76, well below replacement. Since this may lead to an aging population and a dearth of young workers, it is important news.

The New York Times wanted to know why the birth rate is low, and so they polled young people.  (https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/05/upshot/americans-are-having-fewer-babies-they-told-us-why.html). Here are the top reasons they found: 

1. Wanting more leisure time and personal freedom 
2.  Not having a partner yet 
3.  Not being able to afford child-care costs 

Reading the article made me start thinking. 

Why did Paul and I choose to have babies? And then, for goodness sake, why did we go on to have five of them?

For one thing, back when we were having babies, it was just what you did when you fell in love and got married. There was even a rhyme about it that I chanted while jump-roping: “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Betty Ann with a baby carriage.” Or Susie or Debbie or Mary Jane. 

We all expected to have children. That is what you did. I remember having my pre-marital physical and the doctor bringing up birth control. I said, “Oh, we’re ready to have children. I’m not worried about it.”

So we weren’t surprised when, a few months after marriage, we found we had started a baby. We were thrilled!

We didn’t think about loss of leisure time or personal freedom. We certainly didn’t think about child-care costs.

At the time our first child was born, neither of us had a paying job. We were living in Canada, without a work visa, where Paul was studying for his PhD. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment with borrowed furniture. Anna spent her first months in a borrowed baby basket, and then, when we moved, a cardboard box. Our parents helped us buy a few baby clothes and some cloth diapers. Having a baby did not seem to add to our expenses much at all, really, and we didn’t worry much about it.

At the time, I didn’t really think about why I wanted children either. But now, having read the NYT article, I am thinking. Here are thirteen reasons why I’m glad we had children.

1. 1. Because baby toes are the sweetest. But puppies are cute too, so let’s look at some other reasons.
2. 2. Because I’m glad I can look at my dad’s photo as a young man and see how my son looks just like him. Each of the five children share in my husband’s and my DNA, similar to us and yet different in wonderful and surprising ways.
3.  3. Because I have five favorite people in all the world that I would do anything for, and I believe they would do the same for me.
4. 4. Because I am a better person for having been a mother. In my young adult years, at the very time that humans are most likely to live selfishly, I was forced to put others’ needs before mine, to learn to sacrifice. 
5. 5. Because I was still able to build a satisfying and useful career while I was raising children. In fact, I think I was better at my job because I was a mother.
6. 6. Because raising children didn’t really cost a lot. We welcomed hand-me-downs, ate casseroles, and went camping for vacations. 
7. 7. Because I can’t think of a better way of using my free time than raising five people.
8. 8. Because I believe in investing in the future, and my children are my contribution to the future of the country and of the world. They work hard, they care, and they are making a difference for good. I can’t even imagine the loss to the world if they didn’t exist.
9. 9. Because, if we are to find solutions to the problems of climate change, pollution, cancer, poverty, and other problems yet unseen, it is our children and our children’s children who will find them. 
10. 10. Because my children are five uniquely different souls. I love learning more each year about  their particular talents and strengths, watching how those strengths play out in their lives. I am so glad I was able to be a part of their growth.
11. 11. Because my children have had their own children, with the same wonderful outcomes
12. 12. Because my parents chose to bear and raise me. I’m glad I’m alive. And I want to pay this gift forward.
13. 13. Because I am always stunned by the limitless potential of every human soul. 

I know that there are many reasons not to have a child, and everyone needs to make that decision personally. But I am glad that my husband and I made five decisions to welcome a child, a person, into the world and into our lives.