I sometimes wonder if mothering might be another word for longing, and an aching longing at that. Those who long to become mothers may wait for what feels like an eternity to become pregnant, enduring miscarriages, IVF cycles, and a wide variety of uncomfortable procedures. Those navigating the road to adoption endure the fear of rejection or of an adoption never coming together. Both routes may involve taking on a serious financial burden.
Yet the longing of motherhood is like a longing for oxygen when we are out of breath. When babies are born, and grow into little ones, we navigate sleepless nights, projectile vomiting and an incessant worry that we are screwing up these innocent creatures by our own limitations and brokenness. We promise to pay for a lifetime of therapy. We long for good sleep, we long for our children’s health and we long for them to have the best possible lives.
As these children grow into teenagers and young adults, we long to keep them safe from harm like when they were little, but it becomes increasingly difficult. They launch out in the world becoming drivers, going to parties, dating, heading off to college, and moving into their own apartments. We use Find My Friends to check on them, because their responses to texts or calls are erratic at best. We know abstractly they are going to be fine, and yet we long to see for ourselves they are definitively fine.
When they reach adulthood, there is more distance, and the aching longing shifts once more. We love them more each day than the last, yet at the same time we have less say, less control, less influence. All we can do is love them, pray for them, and trust God is with them. When they do call or come home our hearts are ready to burst with the joy that is a momentary balm to our longing. We want to capture those moments and keep them forever.
These creatures whom we love beyond any measure. Impossibly and irritatingly so. Even as they become difficult, distant, or bossy. Even as we have to watch them make mistakes or suffer from the sidelines. Worst of all, sometimes we outlive our children which creates a longing ache that God alone can understand, as our Mothering God lost her son too.
Relationships between mothers and children can be complicated. Pain or harm may have been done, a lack of seeing our child for their authentic self, or a mother’s lack of wellness may lead to estrangement. Sometimes this longing is for what could have been between mother and child.
Sometimes the mothering figures in our lives may not have been our mothers, but an aunt, or a grandmother, a friend’s mom, or a teacher. Yet these mothering figures care for us and help us to be our best selves. They long for our wellbeing.
Even as mothering is a longing ache that consumes us, in the thick of parenting we might experience a different kind of longing. A longing for a shower, for 5 minutes of peace and quiet, for our children to do as asked instead of needing to be reminded 5,000 times. We may long to not resent our children for the paths not taken, or for feeling invisible, or for losing ourselves in this role.
Whatever forms of longing ache motherhood is to us at this season in our lives, we can trust that our Mothering God understands our experience deeply. We can know in our heart of hearts, we are not alone, and that our Mothering God is with us.
In scripture we see God described as a mother eagle guiding her young in Deuteronomy (32:10-11); as a fierce mother bear in Hosea (13:8); and in Luke’s Gospel, we hear Christ’s longing to gather her brood under her protective wings like a mother hen (13:34).
I take great comfort in these images of God as a mother eagle or bear, and Christ as our mother hen. It embodies the love I experienced from my own mother and the other mothering figures in my life. These descriptions of God emulate the care, love, and protectiveness I feel for my own children. I want to swoop in like a mother eagle, to roar at those who mean them harm, and to hide them under my wings to protect them from the harms of a broken and hurting world.
As we remember the mothering figures in our lives, let us give thanks for the women who birthed, raised, and supported us throughout our lives. May we honor the sacrifices they made to ensure we would thrive. Most of all, may we remember this is how intensely our Mothering God loves us. An overwhelming kind of love that will stop at nothing to give us our very best chance.
The Episcopal Church of Saints James and Andrew in Greenfield is part of the Episcopal Diocese of Western Massachusetts. We believe that God is calling us to cultivate a community of love, joy, hope and healing. Jesus is our model for a life of faith, compassion, hospitality and service. We strive to be affirming and accessible, welcoming and inclusive; we seek to promote reconciliation, exercise responsible stewardship, and embrace ancient traditions for modern lives. All are invited and welcomed. We offer hybrid worship on Sundays at 10 a.m. | 8 Church St, Greenfield | 413-773 3925 | www.saintsjamesandandrew.org