Thank you, Leah, for another beautiful post. This is very encouraging and affirming. Although I hope we keep celebrating biological motherhood and the real sacrifices it does imply, I'm glad that the definition of "motherhood" seems to be expanding in public discourse. As a childless woman by circumstance (I'm single and believe marriage to be a necessary prereq to conceiving children), Mother's Day is poignant: both a beautiful chance to appreciate my own mother and other mothers in my life, and a reminder of the beauty that is not mine. I know I'm far from unique in this.
But I am lucky enough to live in a Christian community where friends do let me into their parenthood. I spend a lot of time with some childhood friends and their four children. I'm "tía" to the kids who shower much more affection on me than I could ever shower on them. One might think that being with other people's kids might be yet another reminder of what I don't have, but I have found it to be healing. I think you put your finger on why: it's an outlet for my love which is always more than reciprocated by the unconditional love of children, a love that doesn't spring from what I can do or have accomplished or how I look or how popular I am (or am not), but rather for the simple reason that I'm someone who they know and, therefore, belong in their world.
I'm also using my availability as a single to "mother" elderly neighbors who need care, and mentor some young friends. It's a very different type of motherhood, though: the hands-off, companionship type. In fact, to avoid annoying those I'm trying to encourage, I find it more helpful to see these roles as caregiver and friend than "mother." No one likes to be treated like a small child, even if it's done unintentionally! Still, it is a form of motherhood. A biological mother's relationship to her children also changes as they grow and go through their own life experiences. (Maybe that's material for another post: the changing face of motherhood, and the tremendous love it takes to let go of someone dear to you.)
Anyways, I'm glad for these chances to give of myself so that the love that God put in me doesn't go to waste. Singles need to be loved, accepted and welcomed. But they also need spaces where they can be the ones to give, not just always being on the receiving ends as if we haven't grown up yet. What we especially seem to lack is a place to give of who we truly are, not just our skills and time, brains and muscles. And my friends allow me into such a space.
I love this image of grace: "the divine coming to hide itself and to germinate in our soul." I've joined a local gardening group that does great work in the community. Last night we had a call about our work with local public schools to foster creativity and compassion by teaching kiddos about plants. Most of my fellow volunteers are retired, and we're all committing to a few hours a week of working with kids outside the classroom, in small gardens on campus. I'm so excited to see kids faces light up as we plant seeds, watch them grow, nurture them, and realize how we each can be a force for good in the world.
Forgive me for a humorous first comment on this beautiful, deep post. When I go out (now on the horizon for me because I've completed COVID vaccination), I carry at least one extra set of foam ear plugs with me. When I encounter someone using a loud tool without apparent ear protection, I go over and ask them if they're wearing it, starting out with "Hi, I have a message from your mom..." (When I had a car, I'd park and go over to them.) They grin and listen to my little speech and sometimes accept the ear plugs. If not, we've had a good encounter. I often act more or less motherly to strangers...reassuring moms with cranky kids in a store, helping toddlers find their mothers in a store, asking younger people about their plans and encouraging them. It's a pleasure that I've missed a lot in sheltering at home for over 14 months. Won't be hugging strangers for a while yet, but that will come back eventually.
Thank you, Leah, for another beautiful post. This is very encouraging and affirming. Although I hope we keep celebrating biological motherhood and the real sacrifices it does imply, I'm glad that the definition of "motherhood" seems to be expanding in public discourse. As a childless woman by circumstance (I'm single and believe marriage to be a necessary prereq to conceiving children), Mother's Day is poignant: both a beautiful chance to appreciate my own mother and other mothers in my life, and a reminder of the beauty that is not mine. I know I'm far from unique in this.
But I am lucky enough to live in a Christian community where friends do let me into their parenthood. I spend a lot of time with some childhood friends and their four children. I'm "tía" to the kids who shower much more affection on me than I could ever shower on them. One might think that being with other people's kids might be yet another reminder of what I don't have, but I have found it to be healing. I think you put your finger on why: it's an outlet for my love which is always more than reciprocated by the unconditional love of children, a love that doesn't spring from what I can do or have accomplished or how I look or how popular I am (or am not), but rather for the simple reason that I'm someone who they know and, therefore, belong in their world.
I'm also using my availability as a single to "mother" elderly neighbors who need care, and mentor some young friends. It's a very different type of motherhood, though: the hands-off, companionship type. In fact, to avoid annoying those I'm trying to encourage, I find it more helpful to see these roles as caregiver and friend than "mother." No one likes to be treated like a small child, even if it's done unintentionally! Still, it is a form of motherhood. A biological mother's relationship to her children also changes as they grow and go through their own life experiences. (Maybe that's material for another post: the changing face of motherhood, and the tremendous love it takes to let go of someone dear to you.)
Anyways, I'm glad for these chances to give of myself so that the love that God put in me doesn't go to waste. Singles need to be loved, accepted and welcomed. But they also need spaces where they can be the ones to give, not just always being on the receiving ends as if we haven't grown up yet. What we especially seem to lack is a place to give of who we truly are, not just our skills and time, brains and muscles. And my friends allow me into such a space.
I love this image of grace: "the divine coming to hide itself and to germinate in our soul." I've joined a local gardening group that does great work in the community. Last night we had a call about our work with local public schools to foster creativity and compassion by teaching kiddos about plants. Most of my fellow volunteers are retired, and we're all committing to a few hours a week of working with kids outside the classroom, in small gardens on campus. I'm so excited to see kids faces light up as we plant seeds, watch them grow, nurture them, and realize how we each can be a force for good in the world.
Forgive me for a humorous first comment on this beautiful, deep post. When I go out (now on the horizon for me because I've completed COVID vaccination), I carry at least one extra set of foam ear plugs with me. When I encounter someone using a loud tool without apparent ear protection, I go over and ask them if they're wearing it, starting out with "Hi, I have a message from your mom..." (When I had a car, I'd park and go over to them.) They grin and listen to my little speech and sometimes accept the ear plugs. If not, we've had a good encounter. I often act more or less motherly to strangers...reassuring moms with cranky kids in a store, helping toddlers find their mothers in a store, asking younger people about their plans and encouraging them. It's a pleasure that I've missed a lot in sheltering at home for over 14 months. Won't be hugging strangers for a while yet, but that will come back eventually.