Today, Caitlyn and I tried making our first Syrian food on our own. We made sambousak. The variation we made is Spanish cheese wrapped in phyllo dough and fried in zayt (olive oil). I did some of the frying–Caitlyn did all the rest. We realized part way through that the oil needed to be hotter…that made her nervous, actually made me nervous too, but I had to be the mom and be brave.
It brought to mind a story that pretty much encapsulates much of motherhood for me.
When I was about Caitlyn’s age, 12, I had to swallow a whole lot of fear to help someone else.
We heated our house with wood when I was growing up. We had two wood stoves on the main floor of the house and a wood burning furnace in the basement. Putting wood in them scared the crud out of me. I was terrified of the flames. Then, in the dead of winter my mom got really sick from an allergic reaction. In my young mind, I was afraid she was going to die. I did everything I could think of to take care of her. I got worried she would get cold so I gathered up all my courage and learned to put wood in the furnace. I did it time and time again. I can’t even tell you it got easier, but I learned I could do what had to be done.
That, to me, is a lot of what motherhood is. Seeing the fear, feeling the fear, and doing it anyway.
The results aren’t always pretty, but it gets done. One fire at a time.
