Countably Infinite

I've attended enough school plays, middle school sporting events, and children's holiday concerts to know that I need to mentally prepare for them. They particularly amplify my feeling of singleness and childlessness. You would think that bridal showers, weddings, baby showers and meal train visits to families with new little ones would be the more likely events to do this, but oddly they don't. It's sitting in an audience, watching from a distance, clapping and cheering and watching the parents and grandparents around me take pictures. For some reason, that's what wakes up the feeling in me most. I wonder what it would be like to watch my child grow, and what it would be like to look over at the seat next to me and see my child's father watch him or her grow too.

I know ahead of time that these events require a balance beam act inside my heart and mind. I have to allow the longing for something beautiful without tipping over to the natural feeling of bitterness. To prepare my heart, I pray. To prepare my mind, I consider countably infinite sets. 

Some types of infinity are larger than others. The countably infinite sets (integers, natural numbers, rational numbers) go on without an end. So do the uncountably infinite sets (real numbers, irrational numbers), but these contain more numbers than the countably infinite sets. What does all this have to do with hoping for a family? Understanding that there are different types of infinity justifies my aching and condemns my bitterness all at once.  

In this metaphor, family life is an uncountably infinite set. It's the vastest and highest thing I can imagine on this earth. I watch in awe as my friends marry and become parents. They are swept up in something far beyond them, creating with God and caring for eternal souls of priceless worth. The layers aren't countable - they have depth within depth and color within color. Being a mother is the most real and most irrational thing a woman can do. Of course I am enthralled by its enormity. I wouldn't want to give up the awe for the sake of coping. I believe some women have traded their awe for motherhood for cynicism in order to protect themselves. Many could not get it back even when their children were born, and their families suffer deeply. 

I want to hold on to this regard toward family life, even when it's painful. A future husband and children would be more than worthy of all this longing. Even if I never receive the gift, the world needs men and women who regard the family as it should be regarded - an infinite gift. Fewer careless vows would be taken, fewer children born unwelcomed, fewer people abandoned and alone. 

The uncountably infinite is worth the awe. But the countably infinite keeps me from heartbreak at the infinite loss of not being a wife and mother. What is the countably infinite? This smaller set of numbers still goes on forever. Is it more graspable because it is smaller? No, it is still far beyond anything I can fathom. And this is a metaphor for the gifts I receive every day in my current state of life. The treasures of these eternal souls are no less priceless to me because instead of "mother" they call me "teacher." The role I have in the lives of many dear children is a high calling far above what I could reach in a lifetime. A parent's role is higher, and I acknowledge and honor this, but try not to waste time comparing infinities. My countably infinite world holds enough awe to last forever. So when I see the light in the eyes of the children who call me neighbor, cousin, teacher, sister, or godmother, I soak it in, and my heart overflows.