Priceless

Recently I watched a clip from Antiques Roadshow in which the highest priced item – at least at the date of the recording – was appraised. It was a Navajo blanket that had belonged to multiple generations of one American family, and its current owner, an elderly gentleman, said that it had been lying on the back of a chair before he presumably swiped it up, shook it out and headed over to the show to see if it was worth anything. When the appraiser finally got around to giving him the value – “on a bad day, around $350,000” – the man was utterly stunned, fighting back tears as he responded by saying that his grandmother had been a “poor farmer” and that there had never been “any wealth in the family at all.”

I could watch that clip over and over again. To see the singular moment in which a man’s life is changed is remarkable, and to watch the steady flow of shock-turned-to-joy sweep across his face is magic. But what I most love is his sudden burst of familial background, almost longing to let the appraiser know that this moment isn’t just about finding out that some object he’s owned for years and years is worth a fortune, but that finally, after always being simple, “poor farmers,” his family has worth; indeed, the worth of a “national treasure,” as the appraiser pointed out earlier. My heart swells watching him, almost childlike, as he expresses outwardly what I’m sure he’d carried for years in his heart: I know we’re special… I know we matter… I’ve just been waiting for someone to tell me I’m right.

This was that moment.

As I thought about that clip over the next few days (and watched it several more times, just for the sheer joy of seeing that sweet man’s eyes well up), it dawned on me that in a lot of ways, it’s a great depiction of how I see myself as a mother.  I know that the role is valuable, that it has weight and that it matters. But I find that for the most part, the world at large is rather quick to dismiss what I do, regarding it with patronizing quips like, “motherhood is the hardest job in the world,” a statement likened best to a metaphorical head pat. Being a mom, it would seem, deserves that kind of “bless their little hearts” praise that is sugary-sweet on the uptake but bitterly sour as it sinks in. And it drives me to distraction, because I – just to confess – long to feel validated by the world.  I want them to remember that I’m not just a mom, but a wife – a woman!  And for that reason, I’m just as befuddled – and somehow, patronized all over again – to find that the other side of the fence seems to cry out that not only does being a mother have value, and great value at that, it’s the singular aspect of womanhood to which we were called, the defining pinpoint upon which our purpose spins, and without it, we are somehow half of who we could, or should, be. Either perspective assigns motherhood worth, but both have missed the mark on just what that worth should be.

In reaching for Scripture on being a mom, you’ll find there’s not a great deal of it, other than countless references to God operating as a loving mother would (something that, I think, should steel our sense of His compassion for us). But in Proverbs 31, we find a description of a woman – a “good woman” – who also happens to be a wife and a mother.  Now, bear with me here, particularly if you, like me, find the very mention of Proverbs 31 on a blog about moms turning your stomach. I get it. But go back and read it. Read it in a different translation.  (I prefer “The Message” because the words become new and alive to me after so many years of exposure to them.)  Proverbs 31, verses 10-31, describes ideal womanhood in sweeping metaphors and practical application.  We find a woman compared to a fine trading ship, invaluable diamonds, a woman who is compassionate, motivated, industrious, self-assured, tender, intelligent, shrewd, creative, trustworthy and discerning. It urges us as women toward the kind of living we should not only strive for but pursue out of thirst, the kind that will in turn make us kinder mothers and more loving wives than we may already be. And in the midst of that description is a little phrase that should truly empower us all: “She senses the worth of her work” (v. 18).  She understands its weight, neither under- or overestimating it, finding it rewarding enough to keep her from hurrying to “call it quits at the end of the day” (v. 18), but not the sum total of the worth of herself.

As women, we can find rest in knowing that we don’t need others – be they our peers or the world in general –  to help us ascertain the value of what we do each day, for its worth is secondary to our own, a value that is inherent, sealed from the moment we are woven together.  The dedication, the selflessness, and the physical demand that mothering requires from each and every woman is practically incalculable. Were it a mathematical equation, we could certainly say some mothers were worth very little while others are worth their weight in gold. And it goes without saying that, as in any other task, mothering should be something we strive to do with excellence.

But I believe excellence in what we do is far more easily achieved when we first understand the excellence of who we are… that the worth of our work is derived directly from the worth of our selves. And though we were “bought at a price” (1 Corinthians 6:19), that price is incalculable,

priceless.

“A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. . .” Proverbs 31:10 {MSG}

Where have you found worth in your role as a mom? Do you struggle with finding worth in your work?

{Photo used via Creative Commons}