Little Women, Big Lessons

I first read Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" back when I was about 10 years old. I remember loving it and holding onto the vivid images it produced in my mind of what a strong and healthy family is and longing to have that in my own life someday. I identified most with Beth and Jo. At 10, I had Jo's fiery spirit, but it was so buried by self-consciousness that I never had her boldness, and I ended up acting more like Beth. And I remember wanting so badly to really be like Beth...to be simple, to just want to clean house, mend socks, bake bread and not have any larger illusions of grandeur to discontent my spirit. If you're familiar with this story, I'm sure you can imagine the frustration a person would feel if they had the spirit of Jo but the mind and body of Beth.

Usually, when I love a book, I read it a few times, and I especially did this when I was a kid. But once done with Little Women, I set it aside and didn't pick it up again. I didn't read any of Alcott's work again until college when I took a 19th Century American Women Writer's class, and we studied her life and other works. I gained an understanding of what influenced her writing and perspective - of course, the circumstances of whatever era a person is living in will influence them, but Alcott was also influenced by her parents' perpetual strivings towards the establishment of a better society and a better life based on God's design of how we humans can best live in harmony with each other. They proudly practiced transcendentalism, a popular German philosophy at the time (Emerson and Thoreau were famous transcendentalists of the time) that said that righteousness comes from transcending the physical and empirical institutions of society and religious doctrine and relying on God's use of our own intuition to guide us through life. Her essay, Transcendental Wild Oats, is a hilarious account of her parents' attempt at communal life with a group of like-minded professors and philosophers. Alcott describes how these high thinkers whose fingers had never dug soil or baked their own bread, failed miserably at producing their own food, and building their own homes, not to mention that not a day of the much sought after harmonious living with each other ever happened. She illustrated the old adage that those who cannot do, teach.

A few weeks ago, 12 years after college, (not to mention a marriage and couple of kids later), I picked up a tattered paperback copy of Little Women at Half Priced Books with a horrible 70's style illustration on the cover of whom I think is supposed to be Jo except she has a ton of make-up on, a la Farrah Fawcet, and her dress looks more like a Loretta Lynn stage prop than something that the Jo I loved and knew would wear. I finally got past cringing at the cover and started reading it this week.

Reading Little Women at age 35 has been quite a different experience than reading it at age 10, and I am realizing that perhaps God had a hand in me reading this particular book at this particular time. After all, what else could explain me buying such any book with such a hideous cover?

(I had to take a picture of the book with my Mac's photo booth app because apparently its such a horrible cover that there is not even a record of it's existence online)

When years of young adult angst got overshadowed and buried in priority by unplanned parenthood, I scrambled to formulate a plan of how in the world I could ever be a good mother. I read all the books, changed my life completely to best provide for their spiritual, physical, and emotional health, and most of all, have loved them tremendously. But no matter what I've done, I've felt like a perpetual failure...like there's always more I could be doing, or better choices I could have made, on and on and on 'till I start to question God's plan of making me a mother and thinking that these poor kids would be so much better off with someone else. The other night, I was wallowing in one of these trains of thought and expressed it to Scott, which I don't usually do. I think these thoughts so often and don't want to bring him down or discourage him. But for some reason, I was compelled to be honest...to just let it all spill out. He immediately pointed out to me that everything I said was nonsense and that those thoughts were nothing but whispers from Satan who wants me to hate myself and would love nothing more than for me to abandon my family and dive into the oblivion of selfishness and worldly indulgence. Then the next day, I read this passage in Little Women. It's the part where Marmee, in an effort to help Jo learn how to cope with her emotions after she allowed her anger to overtake her and cause Amy harm, allows herself to be transparent to her daughter by describing her lifelong struggle with her temper. She described what I have felt so many times - the immense frustration over worldly institutions, such as our economy, dictating the state of her children's lives and limiting the opportunities that the world has to offer. Jo asks her how in the world she has managed to pull off her merry and gracious attitude, and Marmee answers with:

My child, the troubles and temptations of your life are beginning and may be many, but you can overcome and outlive them all if you learn to feel the strength and tenderness of your Heavenly Father as you do that of your earthly one. The more you love and trust Him, the nearer you will feel to Him, and the less you will depend on human power and wisdom. His love and care never tire or change, can never be taken from you, but may become the source of lifelong peace, happiness, and strength. Believe this heartily, and go to God with all your little cares, and hopes, and sins, and sorrows, as freely and confidingly as you come to your mother.

The story continues with:

Jo's only answer was to hold her mother close, and in the silence that followed the sincerest prayer she had ever prayed left her heart without words; for in the sad yet happy hour, she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control; and led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the Friend who welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.

I think I was pretty much sobbing by time I got to the last sentence. I was reminded of my own mother, and most of the time, I push all thoughts of her away and focus only on my new life that began first in Christ and then has been lived out with my own marriage and family. But this time, I allowed the Holy Spirit within me to guide my thoughts, trusting that God had brought her to my mind for a reason, and I quieted my own will and allowed His to take over. Suddenly, I felt empathy for my own mother. I realized that she was so much like me, wanting so much for her children and not having the resources to provide anything. Sadly, she did allow Satan's whispers to overcome her and drag her so far down that she committed the ultimate act of selfishness and left this world by her own hand. And then I realized with overwhelming relief what a gift God has given me in my family! As much as I fought and struggled against the circumstances He placed before me, the truth is, God placed a servant of his, Scott, in my life so that He could speak to me when I'm too weak to listen to that Holy Spirit within me. He very purposefully placed my children here to keep me working and striving for goodness, to keep me getting out of bed no matter how deep in the mire my mind may be, and to also use them as vessels to show me His love.

So, here I am, reminded of who I am in God's eyes, all because He used Alcott's beautiful story of four sisters and their wise Marmee to remind me of His purpose and plan for me. Today, despite the worrisome state of the world, our finances, and every other trouble that my mind can conjure up, I am happy. And I am so thankful that God has given me a chance to raise up my own children with the knowledge of His purpose and with the peace and comfort that can only come from feeling His love. He gave me (me!) the chance to start a legacy of triumph rather than defeat, of lifelong peace rather than suffering, with my own family. Thank you, Heavenly Father!