Last Mom in the Woods

An incredible thing happens when I take my children for a walk through the woods:  I remember how very amazing they are.  It's not that I forget that they are wonderful, but sometimes, well...  yeah, I kind of do forget.  In the bustle of home and school and everything else, sometimes I forget that these four human beings are full of marvelous complexities and wonders.

But then we go for a walk in the woods.

As I watch them tromp through the woods, sometimes rushing ahead, sometimes lagging behind, peace fills my heart as curiosity fills theirs.  One stops to show a younger sibling how to use a walking stick.  Soon after, one stoops to pick up a rock that has caught his attention.  The littlest discovers the magic of pockets, secreting a rock or a leaf into his newly discovered lair.  All the while, they interact with each other and me with a strange blend of peace and excitement.  They are tiny, yet powerful parts of God's vast creation.  It is as if they know by instinct that they hold a crucial role in this amazing world full of towering trees and tucked away beetles.  All the conflicts and insecurities of daily life dissolve in the sweet air of the forest.

As for myself, I marvel at my children.  I cherish tiny milestones, like Luke's discovery of his pockets and his first leaf collection.  I promise to remember quietly observed moments of sibling cooperation and realize that these kids, however much they may have bickered earlier in the day, really, truly love each other.  I feel, too, that however much I might worry about how they'll turn out, they will most likely turn out just fine - and then some.  They are, after all, amazing little people, full of marvelous complexities and wonders.

Since first sight, I have been intrigued by the title of a book by Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods:  Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder.  I haven't read it yet, but it's on my mental list of books I ought to read.  After yesterday's walk through the woods with my children, a walk especially sweet for reasons understood and inexplicable, I wondered if someone ought write another book, entitled Last Mom in the Woods:  Saving our Mothers from Nature Deficit Insanity.  A few posts back, I wrote about making peace a part of normal motherhood, and I wonder if mothers are not in need of nature as much as their offspring.

Not having read Louv's book, I can only imagine what he has to say, but as a (sometimes worn-out, exasperated, on the brink of a meltdown) mother who never fails to feel refreshed after a walk through the woods, I say such time in nature is not only worth our time, but perhaps essential to peaceful, clear-minded motherhood.  If it comes to mothers abandoning the woods en masse, I volunteer to be the last mom in the woods.  In the meantime, I vow to be there more often, because the gifts of serenity, joy, and confidence I find within the woods are worth putting in my pocket and taking home with my children's rocks, leaves, and sticks.