Stories of Mothers
Preached 5/9/2021 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
This Mothers Day, I’d like to remember not just those of us who claim the title “Mother” because we have physically given birth. I’d like to read this prayer, titled Prayer for All Who Mother By Victoria Weinstein
We reflect in thanksgiving this day for all those whose lives have nurtured ours. The life-giving ones Who heal with their presence Who listen in sympathy Who give wise advice ... but only when asked for it.
We are grateful for all those who have mothered us Who have held us gently in times of sorrow Who celebrated with us our triumphs -- no matter how small Who noticed when we changed and grew, who praised us for taking risks who took genuine pride in our success, and who expressed genuine compassion when we did not succeed.
On this day that honors Mothers let us honor all mothers men and women alike who from somewhere in their being have freely and wholeheartedly given life, and sustenance, and vision to us.
Dear God, Mother-Father of us all, grant us life-giving ways strength for birthing, and a nurturing spirit that we may take attentive care of our world, our communities, and those precious beings entrusted to us by biology, or by destiny, or by friendship, fellowship or fate.
Give us the heart of a mother today. Amen
Now, I don’t want to gloss over that. Praying for the heart of a mother is no small thing. To pray to have the heart of a mother is to strive to have a heart that will bear great pain. There is a story in the Christian Bible that when Jesus was a baby, an elderly holy man predicted that Jesus would have a difficult life. After telling this to Jesus’ young parents, he turned to Mary, Jesus’ mother and said, “And a sword shall pierce your heart also.”
This speaks to all mothers of all kinds. A sword pierces the heart of every mother. And yet, may we each have the heart of a mother.
Poet Jan Richardson gives a blessing to mothers that describes the mothers heart:
Blessing the Mothers
Who are our first sanctuary.
Who fashion a space of blessing with their own being: with the belly the bone and the blood or, if not with these, then with the durable heart that offers itself to break and grow wide, to gather itself around another as refuge, as home.
Who lean into the wonder and terror of loving what they can hold but cannot contain.
Who remain in some part of themselves always awake, a corner of consciousness keeping perpetual vigil.
Who know that the story is what endures is what binds us is what runs deeper even than blood and so they spin them in celebration of what abides and benediction on what remains: a simple gladness that latches onto us and graces us on our way.
May we all have that mothers heart. May we all learn into the terror of loving what we can hold but cannot contain. Are we not all mothers in that which we help to create? Which we help to nourish? What are the things in your life that you mother? And have you needed to mother yourself?
In this month of looking at the theme of story, we can embrace story today to help us to connect to the mothers that we celebrate. The mothers that are no longer with us, we can connect with through story, through remembrance.
Story is a gift that can connect us across time.
So today we remember the mothers, and we find the mothering spirit within ourselves. We pray to have a mothers heart.
Author Cheryl Strayed has said “Every mother has a different story, though we tend to group them together. We like to think that partnered moms have it good and single moms have it rough, but the truth is that we're a diverse bunch. Some single mothers have lots of child-free time because their kids are regularly in the custody of their fathers. Some seldom get a break. Some partnered mothers split child-care duties with their spouses in egalitarian ways; others might as well be alone. Some mothers of both varieties have parents, siblings, and friends who play active roles in their children's lives in ways that significantly lighten the load. Others have to pay for every hour another person looks after their kids. Some mothers, single or partnered, can't afford to pay anyone for anything. Some can and do. Others can and won't. Some are aided financially by parents, or trust funds, or inheritances; others are entirely on their own.
The reality is that, regardless of the circumstances, most moms are alternately blissed out by their love for their children and utterly overwhelmed by the spectacular amount of sacrifice they require.”
My own mothering story is one of change and wild extremes. I became a mother over 20 years ago with my daughter Hannah, and for 10 years I practiced what’s called attachment parenting, and perhaps what some might call helicopter parenting, because little Hannah never left my side for a moment for years. From the moment I gave birth to her, she never left my line of sight until we were home from the hospital. She slept in my bed, on my chest. Her father worked and I stayed home with her and witnessed every blessed first word, first step, first everything. I even homeschooled her through Kindergarten, so by the time she left for that first day of first grade, it was like watching my own left arm just unattach itself and walk away.
Hannah is 20 now. She lives in Maryland. I don’t think that she remembers those early times of constant togetherness. She couldn’t possibly remember those long, precious days when it was just the two of us because she was less than two years old when she was joined by her brother Adam, who we quickly realized had a developmental delay. Adam was an adorable baby.
And he stayed an adorable baby way too long. Because of developmental delays, he was still a baby years later.
Parents of special needs kids know how completely a special needs kid can occupy your attention. Hannah had to grow up so that Adam could stay a baby. Less than two years apart in age, but decades apart in development.
When Hannah was about 6, and Adam was about 4, Michael came along, all smiles. He brought light into a family that had made our center around worry and fear. As I shlepped Hannah to Adam’s many appointments with specialists, my heart had grown worn and tired. But Michael reminded all of us what it was to live with a heart of joy.
When I went through a time of being a single mom working in poverty, I struggled with depression. Hannah, being the oldest, made sure that her brothers were shielded from the worst of my depression. Michael kept radiating joy.
My children each had a different mother. I mean, they were all me, but Hannah knew an overwhelmed, exhausted mother. Adam knew a mother who kept taking him to specialists, and Michael knew a mother who smiled at him.
My children have three mothers in that they each experienced a different version of me, but they also have three mothers in a more literal sense: I remarried and so did their father. So my children are now our children. Hannah was 13 and Michael was 7 when I married Nicky, so they have known her as a mother for a great deal of their lives. Their father’s wife, Erin, is a third mother in their life, and she brought a son, another sibling! along with her.
Families come in lots of different shapes, and the spirit of mothering is incredibly diverse. I certainly can’t agree with my own siblings on a version of the mother who raised us. Was she kind? Was she fair? Was she silly or childlike?
Am I those things?
Today we remember our mothers. We remember the pain and the beauty of motherhood. And we celebrate the mothering heart within each of us. The heart that is pierced with a sword. Because that’s what love, what deep, real love is. It is sharing pain, it is compassion, being with. Feeling with. May we all be blessed with the pain of a mothering heart today and every day. May our mothering hearts strengthen us, provide us with a deep self-love.
And of course, of all mothers, may we celebrate and honor our dear Mother Earth, from whom all life flows.
Preached 5/9/2021 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
This Mothers Day, I’d like to remember not just those of us who claim the title “Mother” because we have physically given birth. I’d like to read this prayer, titled Prayer for All Who Mother By Victoria Weinstein
We reflect in thanksgiving this day for all those whose lives have nurtured ours. The life-giving ones Who heal with their presence Who listen in sympathy Who give wise advice ... but only when asked for it.
We are grateful for all those who have mothered us Who have held us gently in times of sorrow Who celebrated with us our triumphs -- no matter how small Who noticed when we changed and grew, who praised us for taking risks who took genuine pride in our success, and who expressed genuine compassion when we did not succeed.
On this day that honors Mothers let us honor all mothers men and women alike who from somewhere in their being have freely and wholeheartedly given life, and sustenance, and vision to us.
Dear God, Mother-Father of us all, grant us life-giving ways strength for birthing, and a nurturing spirit that we may take attentive care of our world, our communities, and those precious beings entrusted to us by biology, or by destiny, or by friendship, fellowship or fate.
Give us the heart of a mother today. Amen
Now, I don’t want to gloss over that. Praying for the heart of a mother is no small thing. To pray to have the heart of a mother is to strive to have a heart that will bear great pain. There is a story in the Christian Bible that when Jesus was a baby, an elderly holy man predicted that Jesus would have a difficult life. After telling this to Jesus’ young parents, he turned to Mary, Jesus’ mother and said, “And a sword shall pierce your heart also.”
This speaks to all mothers of all kinds. A sword pierces the heart of every mother. And yet, may we each have the heart of a mother.
Poet Jan Richardson gives a blessing to mothers that describes the mothers heart:
Blessing the Mothers
Who are our first sanctuary.
Who fashion a space of blessing with their own being: with the belly the bone and the blood or, if not with these, then with the durable heart that offers itself to break and grow wide, to gather itself around another as refuge, as home.
Who lean into the wonder and terror of loving what they can hold but cannot contain.
Who remain in some part of themselves always awake, a corner of consciousness keeping perpetual vigil.
Who know that the story is what endures is what binds us is what runs deeper even than blood and so they spin them in celebration of what abides and benediction on what remains: a simple gladness that latches onto us and graces us on our way.
May we all have that mothers heart. May we all learn into the terror of loving what we can hold but cannot contain. Are we not all mothers in that which we help to create? Which we help to nourish? What are the things in your life that you mother? And have you needed to mother yourself?
In this month of looking at the theme of story, we can embrace story today to help us to connect to the mothers that we celebrate. The mothers that are no longer with us, we can connect with through story, through remembrance.
Story is a gift that can connect us across time.
So today we remember the mothers, and we find the mothering spirit within ourselves. We pray to have a mothers heart.
Author Cheryl Strayed has said “Every mother has a different story, though we tend to group them together. We like to think that partnered moms have it good and single moms have it rough, but the truth is that we're a diverse bunch. Some single mothers have lots of child-free time because their kids are regularly in the custody of their fathers. Some seldom get a break. Some partnered mothers split child-care duties with their spouses in egalitarian ways; others might as well be alone. Some mothers of both varieties have parents, siblings, and friends who play active roles in their children's lives in ways that significantly lighten the load. Others have to pay for every hour another person looks after their kids. Some mothers, single or partnered, can't afford to pay anyone for anything. Some can and do. Others can and won't. Some are aided financially by parents, or trust funds, or inheritances; others are entirely on their own.
The reality is that, regardless of the circumstances, most moms are alternately blissed out by their love for their children and utterly overwhelmed by the spectacular amount of sacrifice they require.”
My own mothering story is one of change and wild extremes. I became a mother over 20 years ago with my daughter Hannah, and for 10 years I practiced what’s called attachment parenting, and perhaps what some might call helicopter parenting, because little Hannah never left my side for a moment for years. From the moment I gave birth to her, she never left my line of sight until we were home from the hospital. She slept in my bed, on my chest. Her father worked and I stayed home with her and witnessed every blessed first word, first step, first everything. I even homeschooled her through Kindergarten, so by the time she left for that first day of first grade, it was like watching my own left arm just unattach itself and walk away.
Hannah is 20 now. She lives in Maryland. I don’t think that she remembers those early times of constant togetherness. She couldn’t possibly remember those long, precious days when it was just the two of us because she was less than two years old when she was joined by her brother Adam, who we quickly realized had a developmental delay. Adam was an adorable baby.
And he stayed an adorable baby way too long. Because of developmental delays, he was still a baby years later.
Parents of special needs kids know how completely a special needs kid can occupy your attention. Hannah had to grow up so that Adam could stay a baby. Less than two years apart in age, but decades apart in development.
When Hannah was about 6, and Adam was about 4, Michael came along, all smiles. He brought light into a family that had made our center around worry and fear. As I shlepped Hannah to Adam’s many appointments with specialists, my heart had grown worn and tired. But Michael reminded all of us what it was to live with a heart of joy.
When I went through a time of being a single mom working in poverty, I struggled with depression. Hannah, being the oldest, made sure that her brothers were shielded from the worst of my depression. Michael kept radiating joy.
My children each had a different mother. I mean, they were all me, but Hannah knew an overwhelmed, exhausted mother. Adam knew a mother who kept taking him to specialists, and Michael knew a mother who smiled at him.
My children have three mothers in that they each experienced a different version of me, but they also have three mothers in a more literal sense: I remarried and so did their father. So my children are now our children. Hannah was 13 and Michael was 7 when I married Nicky, so they have known her as a mother for a great deal of their lives. Their father’s wife, Erin, is a third mother in their life, and she brought a son, another sibling! along with her.
Families come in lots of different shapes, and the spirit of mothering is incredibly diverse. I certainly can’t agree with my own siblings on a version of the mother who raised us. Was she kind? Was she fair? Was she silly or childlike?
Am I those things?
Today we remember our mothers. We remember the pain and the beauty of motherhood. And we celebrate the mothering heart within each of us. The heart that is pierced with a sword. Because that’s what love, what deep, real love is. It is sharing pain, it is compassion, being with. Feeling with. May we all be blessed with the pain of a mothering heart today and every day. May our mothering hearts strengthen us, provide us with a deep self-love.
And of course, of all mothers, may we celebrate and honor our dear Mother Earth, from whom all life flows.