Mothers, Be Still
I have been noticing themes about mothering in my life A LOT lately. One of my little sisters is a brand-new mother! Watching the tender transition as she so naturally nurtures and cares for her new baby has been so beautiful. It’s been reassuring too. It has reminded me that all the ordinary, earthy parts of mothering happen without much planning or striving. Watching her stare into baby Josie’s eyes, be protective and feel the desire to be so close, the way she wakes at the slightest squirm or sound of the little one... All of this has reassured me, in the most precious way, that our Maker created her for this.
I listened to a friend recently who lost her mother but who is a mother. I’ve listened to friends who are expecting their first child and are afraid and confused about how to feel about becoming a mother; from friends who desire to be mothers but the answer has been no or not now; to friends who don’t know if they want to be a mother again or even at all. Two weeks ago, I was at the side of an experienced mother as she welcomed #7 into the world. I have dear friends who are in the throes of making babies and caring for them and loving it; mothers who are thriving and loving motherhood. And I have dear friends for whom motherhood is a heavy burden that is threatening to push them right over the edge of sanity. I know mothers who have lost, and lost again, and lost again.
Perhaps one of the moments of 2017 that will be impressed on my heart always was sitting at the deathbed of a young mother, my friend Jenna, and across from her mother. Talk about everything in the world being wrong in a single moment in time. She was so weary from such a long journey, and she was still strong. A meek and quiet kind of strong. She did not flinch, though she had watched and experienced what would be every mother’s nightmare, the suffering and dying of your child. She knew what to say. She knew just what her girl needed, just as I imagine she had when Jenna was just a tiny girl. And even though I knew with everything in my being that this was NOT the way it was suppose to be, I was struck and in awe at how this beautiful, small woman, seemed to fill the room with some kind of dignity, some kind of fierce courage, and a raw vulnerability all at once. She drew near to her girl, pressed her lips against her ear telling her words of hope, words of comfort, words about God’s promises and truths that we believe as those who trust in Jesus. She spoke to Jenna mother to mother about her precious Anna Claire. And she let go, and Jenna let go, and I don’t think she had any idea how the horror and beauty of those hours and the privilege of witnessing her hope in the Lord and standing there in the shoes God gave her, undesirable as they were, blessed me. It impressed on me that motherhood is much more than having cute babies with bows and matching outfits. It is even more than sending beautiful adults into life and receiving the reward of grandchildren. Sometimes we are called on to stand for our children, to be present to them as mothers in ways we never planned or wanted, but in ways that only a mother could and in ways that matter immensely.
In light of all I’ve heard and witnessed this year from women and mothers, I have been pondering on what would be something life giving to reflect on? What would actually be a breath of fresh air? What could I be reflecting on or learning that would even come close to preparing me to meet all the ups and downs that mothering might bring to me? And all I came up with is really rather simple, and its opposite of what we usually like to hear. But, I’m going to tell you anyway! It is, to BE STILL. Hush. Quiet your heart before the Lord. Be still and see how our God and Maker meets you in a communion that brings more refreshment than a clean kitchen and meal cooked by someone else ever could. The drink that He gives will cause you to never thirst again he says.
Be physically still.
Quiet your toiling and working.
Hush your striving to be the perfect mother, daughter, wife, sister, worker, PERSON.
Stop your thrashing and tantrumming about in fear and wounded-ness and disappointment.
Hush your thoughts of what you want or feel you deserve. Put your to do list away for a day and instead be still and listen and rest.
As you settle yourself down, let all the thoughts of things you’ve forgotten, are just remembering, the new amazing strategies for managing life and measuring up to a great woman that are coming to you… just let them all pass by,
and wait. On. The. Lord.
I have found that the Lord is gentle and kind to me in times of quietness. In Isaiah the scripture says, “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
Our best doing, our most keen mothering and ministering, our best selves, will flow out of our times of stillness and communion with God where in contemplation on who He is and how He loves we learn to live and to love, we learn to do. His way. We will not arise from this stillness and be weak and faint from inaction, as some might fear. No. We will rise up from sitting with the Creator of the world, the author of motherhood and womanhood, and we will be grounded and filled with a love and a being known that allows us to walk in whatever shoes have been given, and to embrace life and the suffering that comes with it with a transformed presence, with words of strength and comfort that enliven the soul and spread hope and life to others, just as He’s created us to do.
