Your Mission Statement

I had been floundering my way around motherhood all along. I cherished it, but I still felt pretty overwhelmed most of the time. There was so much joy, but also, too many tears and frustration.

In the same three years that I got married and had two babies, my own mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, went through all the ups and downs that treatments bring, and finally hospice care. She waited a long time for grandbabies and didn’t get much time to enjoy them. At her funeral, I was 41, had a 9 month old baby and a 2 year old toddler.

I wonder what my mom would have said in her mission statement.

She was fun, loving, accepting, and smart. She could create a beautiful atmosphere of celebration, and bring so much comfort with her big hugs. She had a great sense of humor. She knit beautiful things and taught knitting to young up-and-comers. She sewed festive matching Christmas dresses for us, and Halloween costumes for my brother and me. She scored baseball. She had a heart for service and many dear friends. She read a lot.

She was also an alcoholic.

While my earliest and later memories of her are of love, celebration and caring, from the time I was early elementary age through high school, life was different; unstable, unpredictable, sometimes scary, sometimes melancholy. She had been inwardly battling anxiety and depression, hurting from her own past, hurting those she loved most now.

But; she read.

She was searching. And somehow, she was blessed with the courage and the will to make a change.

She must have had a vision for a better life.

I vividly recall the night before she left for treatment. I was a senior in high school, preparing for the Junior Miss Pageant, in the homecoming court, and busy with the life I found refuge in outside of my family. And in one- the only one- family meeting, all the secrets came out. The hurt was real. The anger, the sadness, the disappointments- all real. I hadn’t imagined the things that truly were missing- a sense of belonging, a sense of connectedness, guidance, teaching.

The ways of coping- the overarching feelings of responsibility for all things outside of my control, and the overarching need to please everyone in my path- were real.

Nobody sat down for this impromptu meeting. We just stood around the kitchen counter. For my mom, it was now or never.

My dad was compassionate and quiet. My brother was likely high himself. I just wanted to know how long she was going to be gone, when I would talk to her next. I was both relieved and shell-shocked.

The next morning, I peeked out the window, saw her put her bags into a friends car and drive away. I walked out to the kitchen where I saw an empty bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter. The house was quiet, and I left for school. The next time I would see her would be during a “family session” in a month.

As a mom, I was determined to do better.

Ha.

Back to the floundering. I was not always the perfect patient and involved mother I had dreamed I’d be. I felt unequipped, frustrated and overwhelmed, so when I found the workbook for the mission statement, I was ecstatic. It was a path to follow. I worked on it in earnest, borrowing some parts from others that I couldn’t articulate any better myself. Every couple of years, I revisit and revise. Here is my current statement:

To live God’s purpose for me, to surrender to Jesus and obey the Holy Spirit. To be cheerful, virtuous, sincere, warm, generous with grace, my faith and all my resources.

To make my husband feel loved, cared for and admired, to be his best friend.

To have fun with my daughters; to love, support and encourage them, to provide for their needs, teach them essential life skills, and help them grow to be women of faith, living God’s purpose for them through their talents and gifts, and help them grow to be responsible, patient, hardworking and spiritually minded.

To maintain order, clarity and simplicity in our home, to be prepared for the day to day and hospitality so that our home is a refuge for family, friends and strangers.

To be a bold, focused and intuitive entrepreneur, writer, artist and designer that inspires others and helps them to be happy in their homes, and to put my faith in action.

-Karen Griffith

Ahhhhhhh.

Wait…What???

Enter the sound of the DJ scratching the record.

uhh, do I know her?

Yes, it’s pretty ambitious.

Especially for the one that only “obeys” as long as it fits with her own plans. The one that complains, that can be envious, selfish. That points out flaws to make her husband feel inadequate, not admired. For the mom that could scream when nobody would nap. That might not have essential life skills, much less the patience to teach them. That can let a month go by without dusting, a summer go by without mopping the floor. That can leave piles-of-things-to-organize on a counter for months. That can dream but cannot do, stifled by inertia.

But the people perish without vision.

Proverbs 29:18

And so I have a vision.

Just like my mom had some type of vision. Just like all the big companies have a vision and a mission, so do I. For me and my family.

It doesn’t mean we live up to it all the time, but it’s a place to start toward, to return to and lean on when we feel lost. It’s big picture. It’s a way to clarify the foundation on which you build your life. And to remember your why. It is not meant to overwhelm, but to give you peace and help you focus.

If I can glean just a little bit of one of these in a day, well then, halleluiah. It’s an over-the-lifetime goal, built with small moments, small time-outs from daily life. And I can apologize and have a good laugh when I really mess up.

Because I will. And so will you.

We all have our stories, we all have our hurts. Some go much deeper, and last much longer than mine. Some less. But we’ve all experienced something that’s broken us.

My mom went on to live sober for 24 years. That’s a long time to create new memories and write a new story. I am grateful for that 24 years. And I can say now I’m grateful for the 17 years before that. To borrow a line from the movie “I Still Believe”,

“My life isn’t full despite the disappointments, it’s full because of them.”

Mine is the life I was placed into, the place I was meant to bloom. My experience makes me aware and grateful. And in search of better ways and authentic healing.

Your life is the one you were placed into. The place you were meant to bloom.

It’s never too late to write a mission statement. Wherever you are at, whether you have kids at any age, or no kids. You have a story to tell, maybe a new story to write. And by crafting your mission statement, you’ll get clarity on that story, and the focus to build it .

Here’s your practical tool. Download the “My Mission Statement” worksheets. It’s the quick and easy in 5 simple steps version to get you thinking about the roles in your life, the roles you would like to prioritize, the vision you have and the actions you can take within these roles to leave the legacy you want to leave. For more in depth teaching and community, visit Kat Lee at HelloMornings.org!