ten things mothers in Haiti taught me about motherhood

I’ve written tips posts about mothering before – like ten bits of mothering advice I would give myself  {link} – but they were all written before going to Haiti. Haiti changed my heart and my perspective. It’s made me look at the world with a different lens, a different paradigm, and I am excited to share my findings with you because I believe the perspective on life that I learned in Haiti, a third world and yet joyous country, is one that our hearts must hear.

1. Be involved.
These mothers were at every event. Not just dropping them off, but there pushing their kids in the door, giving me a hug, giving their child a hug, and then watching them. Motherhood isn’t passive – it simply cannot be. Motherhood is an active, in your face, life giving role. Is it tiring? Absolutely. Give of yourself  and in that giving you will not only bless your children but yourself.

2. Help other mothers.
Let me repeat that – help other mothers. You should not be alone in this journey. The other mothers at preschool class should not be alone. Motherhood is not meant to be a solo journey of perfection. Motherhood is meant to be lived together with other mothers – not in competition – but hand in hand, with encouragement, and the attitude of we’re in this together. It’s not about one upping or being the best – it’s really about raising children together and living life in community – not solo.

3. Celebrate your children.
Love what they love. Celebrate when they do life – those things matter. There was a little Haitian girl who sang You are My Sunshine to us in Haiti. While she sang her mother stood in the side of the church and glowed with delight over her daughter and her accomplishments. Your kids needs to see you proud of them. Loving them. For the littlest things. These are the times when you stop your agenda, you look them in the eye, and you tell them I love you and thank you for sharing. Those words matter.

4. Trust your children.
These beautiful mothers let their children load a bus, let us bus them down a mountain to a mango grove where they could run and play, and didn’t hover over those kids. I remember watching all these kids run off the bus thinking how we’d have permission slips, buddy systems, checklists and such. All of the kids returned on the bus. Their mothers trusted them. And the beauty? The older kids watched the youngers and made sure they returned.

5. Smile.
Let your kids see you smile. The end.

6. Make them work.
Running water is rare in Haiti. In fact, throughout the day, and all day long, I saw groups of children walking to the water pump. Hour after hour after hour those children came to get water for their families. They laughed and skipped down to the pump with their empty jugs. Work is good for kids. It’s way to easy to think we need to protect them from work so that they can do the other stuff in life, but I’m telling you – kids need to learn the value in good, hard, family benefiting work. Teach them to appreciate work now.

7. Serve with joy.
Let your kids see you serve. Joyfully. The mothers of the church that we served at worked almost all day behind the scenes. Prepping food, cleaning, helping with the kids, bringing water to those working. And they smiled constantly. Laughed. Sang. There was never an attitude of grumbling. Let your kids see you serve and help others with joy. When we complain about laundry or dishes or the messy room or all of that we are, in fact, teaching our families to complain about those things. Those things? They are really gifts. Laundry is a gift. Dishes mean there was food to eat. A messy room means that we were blessed with things. Work to change that one thing and you will change your children’s perspective.

8. The stuff doesn’t matter.
You know this. I know this. But until I lived in an environment so lacking in what we would deem physical success I didn’t really realize this. The stuff doesn’t matter. What you wear or how you do your hair or whether your living room looks like it came from Pottery Barn or if your car is the latest or if your gardens are beautiful or your kids have the latest gadgets – I’m telling you – that stuff really does not matter. It is so hard to realize that in a world saturated with stuff. But, when I lived in a culture without it and saw the most beautiful joy I began to wonder if the stuff, and the management of stuff actually sucks at joy. Ponder that.

9. Expect good from them.
The reason those mothers let those kids go on the bus down the side of the mountain is because they expected them to be obedient and return. I think it’s easy to expect that kids will be up to no good – think of the horrible presuppositions that we place on teenagers at times – but our kids, your kids, the neighbor kids, they need us to expect that they will make the right choice. If one lives in a world where others look at us like we’re up to no good then that becomes the target. Expect good. That’s the target.

10. Be grateful. Be grateful. Be grateful.
That. Times a million. Times infinity. And again. I grumble about simple things. My coffee wasn’t hot enough. The person at the stop light didn’t see that it was green and I had to wait a couple seconds. Ridiculous non important things. Check your thoughts. Replace grumbling with gratitude. It takes work. Those Haitian women? They were so grateful. Grateful for the weather. For the water. For help. For their children. For the clothes they were wearing. For moments in a church that we would probably say was too hot or that we were getting sweaty or silly stuff. They were grateful for the space. For fellowship. For the little things. Be grateful.

It’s a bit of perspective. Especially in our world of soccer deadlines and science fair projects and pinterest inspired birthday parties. Those things are all good, but don’t define motherhood. The mothers in Haiti taught me it’s not really about stuff and appearance and externals – it’s about being there, being present, being thankful, being joyful, and being a friend.

They taught me more in those days then I’ve learned in years.