A favorite line on mothering from Peter Pan:
It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtinesses and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind, and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.
I was able to do this out loud for Ada last night. She was quite distraught at bedtime, as the best of the dramatic 7 year-olds are bound to be.
Ada, crying: “I just have this weird feeling, like, when I get to Heaven I’m not going to find it fun or enjoyable. And it just makes me feel so baaaaaad!” More crying.
Me, summarized: “Ada, you’re just a little girl. You couldn’t possibly imagine what Heaven is going to be like. And God knows that. He’s your Good Father who loves you. But even if you can’t imagine what Heaven will be like, can you trust Him when He says it will be good? If you can trust Him, even when you don’t fully understand, then you are doing everything He asks. You don’t have to stress out about it. He isn’t worried that you don’t have it all figured out.”
And it worked. Worries smoothed. I love being a mom.