A Fitting Happiness

I just finished reading and thinking and writing on Plato's Republic for graduate school. 

In it, Socrates speaks of a true shepherd. 

A true shepherd considers the nature of sheep and fits himself to the task that's required for sheep to thrive. 

So in a way, a true shepherd is a servant to sheep. 

Even though he is master of sheep, a true shepherd is only ever a true master of sheep when he is a servant to the reality that sheep present. 

This is opposed to, say, a money-making "shepherd" who reduces his work with sheep to a money-making venture and only raises sheep to fatten them for market. 

That "shepherd" probably won't do half the work a true shepherd is compelled to do. 

A true shepherd is obviously still making his livelihood off his sheep, but his profit is secondary to his primary purpose, which is caring for sheep. 

But all this is to explain how real happiness happens.

By being a true shepherd, a true shepherd experiences a natural, fitting, particular happiness that only a true shepherd can experience. 

And a true shepherd's happiness is tied up in the how well he is actually shepherding, how well his sheep are doing under his care, etc. 

Socrates's talk of a fitting happiness struck me as the reason some people are never happy. 

Maybe they are looking for a disproportionate happiness. 

Maybe they want a different happiness than the one their particular life and work can ever give. 

And this struck me, too, as probably the only reason those who are truly happy ever are. 

Those who experience true happiness always, only, ever experience a limited, particular, fitting happiness closely based on their reality. 

And now I find that the same thing that goes for shepherds goes for mothers. 

As a mother, I am master of my home without a doubt. 

But in a real way, being a true mother means I am actually a servant, bound to do what my family needs to thrive in reality. 

And part of my job as master and keeper of my home in this particular season is to make Christmas happen. 

At this point, we've done with all the decorating. 

I've finished the shopping and gift wrapping, several hours of gift-wrapping for two whole days. 

I am planning some special cooking and baking, but that can wait. 

For now, I have some margin to my feet up and enjoy leisure and reflection. 

I reflect that Christmas is a lot of work. 

Each tradition, however small, represents a lot of time and energy. 

I don't think my family could possibly know how much goes into it all, because they aren't the ones doing it. 

But they still notice it all and appreciate when all the little things they look forward to are done again this year. 

This year, as I was working, working, working at Christmas for days and days, I was as aware as ever that Christmas is "all up to me."

But I did not feel the weight of that like I have in years past. 

I did not feel resentment. 

This year, Socrates has come to mind in the midst of all the Christmas labor.

His explanation of the true shepherd has given me some insight into the burden I am carrying as a mother to make Christmas happen. 

Therefore, this year, all the labor has felt more like a fitting privilege that goes with my motherhood than an unnatural burden. 

In many ways, as a mom, I am the culture-maker and culture-keeper of our home. 

In fact, culture-making and keeping might actually be the essential work of motherhood. 

So naturally, the Christmas traditions are mine to steward as part of the work of being a true mom. 

So I give myself over to the task and all it actually requires of me in reality, and it gives me back the particular happiness that true motherhood has to bring in this season.  

That happiness that I experience as they open the perfect present for them or bite into their favorite cookies is a fitting and a real happiness that goes naturally with my life's work. 

It's all I can reasonably ask for, and it's fitting, and I find it deeply satisfying, because I have not sought a different happiness than the one I have been given.  

The happiness of a mother at Christmas is mine, truly, because the work of a mother at Christmas is mine, truly.