Mother’s Day is a wonderful day to remember our mothers. I have been blessed to have become at mother at age 32, and again at 34.
But those days when I didn’t have any children, and all my friends did, well…Mother’s Day just…sucked! I was getting “older” and a little scared. And I was kinda sick of our narrow definition of “motherhood.”
So, on this Mother’s Day, I’m going to be THAT person and declare a greater truth about Motherhood:
The Jewish prophet Isaiah said this:
“Sing, O childless woman,
you who have never given birth!
For the desolate woman now has more children
than the woman who lives with her husband.”
What does that even mean?
I think of Beatrix Potter, the author and illustrator of the Tales of Peter Rabbit. The beauty and truth of them have reached SO MANY children in ways their own moms can’t.
Mother Theresa. No words.
Fanny Crosby. Poet, Writer and basically the Mother of Gospel Songs. Think of how many children have sung those?
Amy Carmichael. She moved to India in 1901 and founded an orphanage and mothered hundreds of motherless girls who would have become sex slaves.
These are famous women. What about the ordinary ones?
Take me, for instance. Before I had babies, I mothered my students. Some of my girls at boarding school had absent mothers, and how could they navigate being a teenager without a mother? They called me Mom, and let me tell you, I loved my boarding school daughters as much as my own little babies.
And, now, as a mother of my own children, I struggle EVERY SINGLE day with the insignificance of my daily routine. For real. All of my time and energy is spent on my children. I can’t do anything for anyone else. I love my babies to death and it is worth it, but there is STILL scarcity here.
Those years where the world said I was “barren” were NOT empty. They were FULL of children and teenagers and sick people who needed a mother. At times, I felt fuller than I do now.
So, Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mothers of the UnMothered.
Your influence is infinite.