A Mother's Sacrifice vs. Personal Ambition

Over the past couple of years, I've become more aware of certain weaknesses, or attributes that while being good - can become detrimental. Enter: ambition and personal growth.

Family and the Individual
I married, by most standards, at a young age (twenty) and had my first child a year later. I have now been married for seven years and have three awesome kids and am very much in love my husband. I married, not having a college education or any great career. Truth be told, I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up, aside from a wife and mother. Therefore, I didn't mind putting those things on the back burner. I always felt that raising a family was the best thing I could ever do or accomplish. I still feel that way. However, I have grown ambitious and have since, discovered interests outside of those callings; for which I am grateful and excited about. The rub is in balancing the two - balancing the life I have chosen, with my new aspirations. How can I be a wife and mother as well as an individual with personal goals and dreams? How do I pursue and succeed in both? It's easy to have your focus on one thing and be truly successful in it, it's another to have yourself divided in accomplishing multiple things and doing them all well. It seems that no matter what I do or how I do it, something always falls short and I let someone down (mostly myself).

Selfish Deceit
Satan would have me believe that my husband and children are keeping me from my true potential; that I could progress so much more quickly - get my degree, write those books, etc., if I put them aside. He whispers that I would be much better off if I shirked my family responsibilities a little more, to allow more time for my own personal fulfillment. "I have certainly put in my time, sacrificed a lot, it's only fair that I focus on me a bit, isn't it? Why should I have to give up everything I want?" I can't tell you how often those thoughts disrupt and confuse me. I want to achieve my goals. But I know that these thoughts are nothing more than selfish deceit. My family is more important. Being a mother is fulfilling, strengthening, and creates growth - but those things come as a bi-product of building up and strengthening others - not from focusing on myself. Perhaps that is how it should be.

Doing it All
I am learning that there is hope to do it all, and do it well. It's just going to take some time. I am know that while I can't get my degree within the normal four year period, be the perfect wife or mother, or submit a manuscript for publication anytime soon, I can make a daily effort to do well in those areas. I can't take a full load of classes to finish my degree in a short time, but I can take two per term and still have time for my other callings. I can't take my kids to the zoo everyday, or execute some clever craft, but I can read to them, help them with school, and build forts with them. I can't write a great manuscript today, but I can write notes to outline it. Some would tell me to cut out that which is unnecessary - saying that, "you can't do it all." This is true. I can't do it all - in a big way, but I can do it all in small ways. I can do the things that are most meaningful to me in little bits and be happy that I am slowly building something greater. I won't have my degree in four years, raise my children over night, or publish a novel tomorrow (or ever) - but I can take small steps to get closer to fulfilling those things.

The Greatest is the Least
I believe that the greatest growth doesn't come when we are trying to build up ourselves, but when we're building up those around us; managing our own aspirations in the background. Truthfully, I think it's a lot harder this way. It's hard to sacrifice, to balance, to be vigilant day in and out in doing the small things so that the greater things come to fruition. It's hard to be focused on multiple things, rather than just one. It's also hard to accept that I can't do it on my own. I know that the only way for me to be truly successful in this life is to listen, seek, and accept the Lord's guidance in these things. I have to constantly remind myself to be humble and ask for help. I know that I get off track everyday, and that in order to have a hope of being on course - I have to seek his guidance. I may never succeed at all these things, but I do know that if I do it the Lord's way, I will find the path he has intended for me, and that my accomplishments will be greater than what my feeble mind may have ever considered.

Written By: Marzee Dyer


27 years of age, Marzee has never been much farther than the green puddles of the Northwest (Oregon & Washington, USA). She has been happily married to Jon for seven years, is a stay at home mother of three, college student, and youth mentor. She is the founder of WomenAfire. Hobbies: Singing at church, dancing with her kids, hangin' with her husband, fitness, teaching, reading (Stephenie Meyer) & writing.

I Choose to be Beautiful

“I’m not so sure about this,” my voice quavered and my hands shook as I tried to put on my lip-liner.

“Then why are you going?” my husband asked.

“Because I want to,” I said.

“Then why are you crying?” he asked.

I shrugged and looked up towards the ceiling in hopes of stopping the tears from spilling out and messing up my fresh makeup. I took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror, straightened up and gave myself and my husband a nervous smile. I put on my coat and hat for the chilly November afternoon and climbed into the car alone.

I felt okay for a few minutes driving along, but suddenly the 35 mile trip felt very long. I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach again and picked up my cell phone. I set it back down and took a few more deep breaths. I listened to the radio then picked up the phone again and pushed the number for my sister-in-law. She picked up.

“Hello, Allison?” I began and we shared the normal pleasantries.

“Are you okay, Shan?”

“Yes, I, well, I am just on my way to that lunch,” I stammered.

“You are right now?” her voice raised in excitement. “That is so cool! You are going to have such a great time!”

“Well…,” I stammered again and blinked my eyes, willing the tears again to not mess up my make-up.

“I’m kind of starting to freak out a bit. I’m not sure if I want to go.” Allison immediately gave me the reassurances that I needed and reminded me of all the reasons that I was looking forward to this lunch. If only I had somebody with me. Just one person that I knew. But having a familiar voice reassuring me was helpful.

“And think of what good you might be doing to change stigmas,” she said. “Do you know that not too long ago pregnant women couldn’t do a lot of things because it was inappropriate for them to be seen in certain settings.

Immediately I recalled an experience that my own mother had been through. She was young and quite newly married, attending the University of Utah. She was majoring in education and would soon receive her teaching certificate. Then she and my father would be moving to Chicago for him to work on his Master’s Degree at Northwestern. Her last semester came and her date for student teaching was set.

“That will be perfect,” she told the professor. “Then I will be done months before the baby is born.”

“Baby?” he balked. “What baby?”

Yes, my mother was pregnant. She was married. She was doing well in her classes. But now she would have this hideous bump coming out of her middle which might insight the minds of high school students to think…to think what?...who knows but it was not going to be okay for her to be seen in that “condition”. It was decided that she would not be allowed to do her student teaching. She was able to graduate but could not receive her teaching certificate. It would be another thirty years before she would have the opportunity to go back to school and get that certificate because of how somebody else thought her look might bother somebody else.

I felt less alone and thanked Allison as I pulled into the parking garage. Once I found a spot, I turned off the engine and sat quietly for a few minutes. I was late. Would I be the last to arrive? What if nobody was there? And why did the lunch have to be in a very large restaurant in the middle of a large downtown mall? I took off my hat and looked in the mirror. My stomach was turning somersaults. I clasped my hands together and said a short prayer. Then it came to me. Not a voice. Just a thought. A very clear thought. “It’s time to make your choice.”

It took only a minute to decide.

“I choose to be beautiful,” I said to my reflection and got out of the car. I straightened my dress and straightened my spine. I rolled my shoulders back and lifted the crown of my head towards the sky. I put on a layer of lip gloss. I smiled and began to walk. It was a long walk and it was cold. I noticed people looking at me. I would glance at them only long enough to smile and kept going.

I entered the restaurant and, to my relief, spotted my table immediately. Thea stood and welcomed me. I recognized her from the photos on her website. Her smile was warm and inviting. Although nearly a foot shorter than me in my tall boots, her hug was huge. I sat down and immediately felt more at ease. All of the women smiled at me. There was an instant connection. We all shared so much and could relate on so many levels. Our eyes spoke volumes before introductions were made.

We spent several hours talking about everything you can imagine—especially our experiences with the disease that brought us all together. I have an auto-immune disease called Alopecia Areata. It started at the age of 14 with just one spot the size of a quarter on the back of my scalp. The spots had come and gone over the next 7 years then I went through a period of about 18 months when I had experienced total hair loss. It had grown back and was pretty stable for the next 8 years. Then two years ago I went through a rugged bout with Hepatitis A, and lost all of my hair in just a two week period. I also lost my eyebrows and many of my lashes as well as patches of hair on the rest of my body. This lunch was the very first time that I had gone into public with out a wig or a scarf on my head.

About an hour into the lunch a news reporter came. She interviewed Thea and then asked if some of us would be willing to do a spot for one of the sports casters at the station. He liked to have somebody from the community introduce the beginning of his segment each night. Several of us stood up and put our arms around each other and, on cue said in unison, “We are Bald Girls Do Lunch and it’s Rungee Time!”

The camera man gave us a thumbs up, and then, to my amazement, somebody from another table stood up and clapped. Then the entire restaurant was clapping for us. Tears stung my eyes again. But this time not because I was scared or ashamed. I had made the choice to be beautiful and I felt it.

Driving home I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt like I everything was going to be okay.

My hair hasn’t grown back and I still have hard days. I still have to make the decision when I go out to be beautiful and I have to remind myself of that a lot. It is not something that comes naturally to most any of us women (or men for that matter) in our society. But I am coming along.

I find strength in motherhood. In focusing my efforts on helping to raise the three little ones I’ve been given to be accepting and loving of all people and to look past the appearance of an individual to see who they truly are, I find joy and fulfillment. I find strength in serving others less fortunate than myself. Running a non-profit organization to provide educational scholarships for children in Haiti has helped me immensely. It is very difficult to feel sorry for yourself after spending an afternoon with a group of children that have recently been rescued from slavery but who still bare the bruises and burns from their oppressors and still struggle to eat each day. And I find strength in my spirituality. Knowing that the real me is not my appearance, but a being that was created in image of divinity and who live on in the eternities after this mortal body has turned to dust. And I find solace in the love of my family and friends who pour it upon me so abundantly.

There are still days when I forget the things I’ve learned. I hear somebody complain about how unruly their thick hair is or I try to decide what to wear to an event or I wake up after dreaming that my hair has grown back and I feel upset. But then I have to look in the mirror and do what every man and woman ought to do when they look in the mirror each morning. I raise my eyebrows a bit. I nod my head. I wink and I say, “Yeah. You are looking good!”

Photos Provided and Article Written By Shannon Cox

Shannon was born and raised in Ogden, Utah, served a Spanish speaking mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints and has a BS in Spanish and Early Childhood Education. She is married to, "one awesome man, Jason" and they are currently expecting their fourth child. She is the founder of Haitian Roots, a non-profit organization which serves to aid education efforts and other care for Haitian children, and works once a week as a Spanish interpreter at her local courthouse.

Journal Daze: Bearing the Overload (NOT!)

So, I like to consider myself as a girl who is pretty even-keel. I don’t get overly emotional about stupid little things (though I’m a big cry baby when it comes to sappy movies, spiritual moments, or others’ tales of woe), am usually slow to anger, and don’t sweat the small stuff. And yet, here I am . . . . taking the day off from “normal life” because I realized that I needed a break. Do you ever get stressed without noticing it – and then all of a sudden – bam, the signs are right there before your face? Well, that’s what I did this weekend.

Minding my own business I discovered that while I was trying to do all the good things I’m supposed to do, I was also craving chocolate, sugary treats, not sleeping well, and then . . . . started to feel the onset of a cold with the fatigue, swollen glands and sore throat. That’s when I realized that my zombie looking blotched eyes, acne ridden chocolate face, and raspy throat (seems I’ve already got my Halloween costume – yuck!) were manifestations of the stress I was internalizing from moving, schooling, mothering, and running a household. And to think, I didn’t even know that I was stressed! Isn’t it funny how we as women take on so much, don’t (often) complain – and then all of a sudden, break down a bit because we were carrying more than we could handle?

I think about the scriptures, the Savior telling us to, “Bear ye one another’s burdens.” I’m more than delighted to help bear others’ burdens . . . . but often refuse to allow them to bear mine. I think that is common to women. More often than not, we struggle with our burdens in silence . . . until we break down, get sick, go into depression, eat a gallon of ice cream, or dry up the local reserves of Kleenex. Isn’t it selfish of me to not allow others to do service by accepting their help . . . or maybe even asking for it? I know that I feel of greater value to my friends and family when I can be of service to them, should I deny them the same? I want them to know that I need them, that they’re central to my well-being. So, tomorrow – I’m going to ask for help, so that I can get a couple of papers written and some packing done!

Marzee Dyer (aka "BigZee")
Washington, USA

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