Mother's Day Solidarity Call

I know many mothers; and have met many more.

There are no accidental mothers; just that not always, it was a woman's free, willing, ready choice.

Here are two photos of moms I love: a simple Indian woman with her half-clad babe and the blonde with her dark African babe.

Mothers come in so many shades.

There are Mothers in India, Thailand, Indonesia... the ones who live far away from the bright city lights and are not tethered to a cable that wires their imagination to a world of 'have's'. Those mothers? They have stomachs to feed.

Then there are those mothers I read about and weep. Those mothers who roused to the sound of sirens and grab their kids, kicking dust for miles with only the clothes on their back. Those mothers who in the mob moment loses grip of the child and now are haunted by that moment as they pray and cry till there are no-more-tears in the camps. Those mothers who have watched as their children are taken, ravished, killed. These kinds of mothers? I have no words for what they suffer.

Usually when we mothers think about 'mothering', we see ourselves, our moms, and maybe other moms we know personally. But there are so many mothers out there!

We need to set our lives against the larger canvas - and what we juxtapose it with makes such a huge difference!

I will tell you this too: I have met and known mothers who are 'tais tais'; rich and robed in splendour - but living with an inner posture of poverty and want, literally worried sick over house and husband and offspring.

Fellow mothers, what is this wondrous, painful, incredible, and tremendous thing we have been called to?

How do we respond to it? 

How do we know when we do it well, or not? 

Do we ever fail?

Fellow mothers, in a world that says "if it's worth anything, it gets paid, handsomely" - how do we continue in our daily trenches when the affirmation cracks like thin ice?

How do we keep going when there is no interlude with popcorn and streamers?

I remember my own mother - whose life I described as both entrancing and repulsive to me at the same time. I adored her passion for life and her endless capacity to care; but I felt unnerved to think that a woman's lot is so much sacrifice.

She was three when she lost her dad. With a mom who gambled away the meagre earnings, she learnt to be resourceful and to provide, cook, clean, plan, and scheme! She raised her mother and brother. Later she would marry my dad and repeat the whole thing over, this time, including a mean-spirited mother-in-law, and nine children! 

She never had a boudoir but wore mostly the same few clothes and her shoes were hospital-issue where she worked. She would walk with aching legs to save the few coins for a larger meal for us. As a litle girl, i believed my mother could do anything! She cooked, cleaned, sewed, made pretty our sparse home, told stories, comforted us, laughed at our antics... and with each season, she just kept growing and glowing. It wasn't until we were grown and started supporting her that she began to spend on herself.

Most of my growing up years then, I admired my mother and wanted her grace and prowess - but  - I told myself I would not lose so much in the process.

I didn't understand.

The paradox of dying to live and giving to receive stumbles us. It is a faint voice, seemingly unreasonable, even foolhardy with the noisy clatter each day of 'get what you want', 'don't let others take advantage of you', 'watch out for yourself'...

I'll be honest. I still don't get it quite yet. Maybe I am too tethered to the world and need to cut loose some more.

If Jesus invites us to be the branches extending from him as the vine; I am the branch with many other IVs inserted into parts; busily drinking off approval, competition, strife, fear... I am not pure juice. I am sloshing a little tipsy with the flavours and favours of the world.

So  --

when my sweet child grows up as she must and turns into a stranger; I panicked that I have lost years of pure maternal investment and career sacrifice.

when others cringe at the son's outburst and hurl accusations, I am a crumpled heap.

when the future possibilities for my children could turn out to be sloppy-artist and itinerant juggler (no kidding) I pace within my heart and wonder what went wrong.

You see how quickly I move dead centre and it becomes about me? I think it negates the whole idea of sacrifice and being for others when little old me walks on stage and demand the floodlights shift to reveal a star!

I need other mothers to mother - well.

So here's what I figure. I need to issue a call for solidarity. Mothers, let us stand together. Let us cheer each other on. Let us remind each other of the sheer nobility and washboard-knuckle pain reality of this thing we call 'mothering'. Let us also step back often enough to see the larger canvas, and weep along with fellow moms. We fight different battles. But one thing we all do: we fight: for life, for hope, for love.  And our --

laying down,
letting go,
leaving it aside... 

it is all Jesus' way...  I always wondered how as a gal I could be like Jesus. Mothering showed me a deep, amazing way to be so. He laid aside His majesty. We may too, with wrinkly bosoms. He lets his right go. We may too, when we drink from the sippy cup, go de-caf, stop smoking... He left a lot aside; the reasonable stuff of income security and a carpenter's dream workshop perhaps...and more. For some of us, the children we have demands we be certain kinds of moms: stay-home, doing odd jobs, regulars at hospitals, special services. principals' offices...

Jesus gets us!

At that cross. His mother stood with him. A child and a mother can get each other that way when they were both willing to drink from the same cup. We can get our God's heart (and he is wont to use maternal images: the mother hen being a favourite) and enjoy a solidarity there.

In our crosses, Jesus stands with us.


As fellow moms, let us stand with one another.


Solidarity challenge this mother's day season:
1. pray or send a gift to a mother with less
2. don't compare, complain or compete with another woman (especially your mom!)
3. give thanks for being a mom
4. share this post and solidarity challenge!