10.May.2015, #295

Mother's Day.  Could be simple, fun, upbeat, celebratory, but that would not be taking into consideration all the other aspects that are perhaps more pressing for many people.  Mack brought a poem she found, which I followed with a prayer.  And then we closed with this video from Mr. T, because all the heaviness in the room needed some diffusing.

Here's the poem that Mack brought:

To those who gave birth this year with their first child- we celebrate with you

To those who lost a child this year- we mourn with you

To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badges of food stains- we appreciate you

To those who have experience loss through miscarriages, failed adoptions, or running away- we mourn with you

For those who walk the hard path of infertility fraught with pokes, prods, tears and disappointment- we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don't mean to make this harder than it is.

For those who are foster mom's, mentor moms, and spiritual moms- we need you

To those who have warm and close relationships with your children- we celebrate with you

To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children- we sit with you

To those who have lost their mothers this year- we grieve with you

To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother- we acknowledge your experience

To those who have lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing a motherhood- we are better for having you in our midst

To those who are single and long to be married and mothering their own children- we mourn with you that life has not turned out the way you long for it to be

To those who are step-parents- we walk with you on this journey

To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren, yet that dream is not meant to be- we grieve with you

To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year- we grieve and rejoice with you

To those who have placed children up for adoption we commend you for your selflessness- we remember how you hold that child in your heart

To those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising- we anticipate with you

This Mother's Day we walk with you

Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors  in our midst. We remember you.

And here's the prayer I wrote:

Mother’s Day is…a joyous occasion, a painful reminder; a time for celebration, a time for grief; difficult to get through, filled with love; blissfully simple, full of mixed emotions.  And so we pray:

God, we thank you for the gift of life, and for our mothers, the vessels through which you bring new life.  And, God, we tremble before you, aware of so much that is dredged up when we turn our attention toward honoring motherhood.  So much hope, so much pain; so much joy, so much grief; so much memory, so much possibility; so much anxiety, so much contentment; so much that makes sense, so much that denies your presence; so much regret, so much thankfulness; so much understanding, so much that defies understanding.

We believe you identify with motherhood, that indeed you create us from out of yourself, out of your steadfast love, and breathe life into our dry bones and your Spirit into our dusty hearts.  But we also remember that you declare of yourself in Deuteronomy that you, the Lord of Lords, mighty and awesome, are a God who shows no partiality and accept no bribes, and thus in motherhood, this gift and this burden, we are at a loss as to why this is so, why your rain of blessing falls on all of us in manifestly different measure.

So we in the same breath praise you and tremble before you, and yearn alongside the poet for hard times to come again no more, calling on you for both your effort and your presence.  And we pray especially for the mothers here in our midst, that would endow them with patience and strength and wisdom, that our tumultuous world might be calmed by their effort and presence.


I had hoped to use this poem too, but space and timing didn't allow for it.  I think this is a lovely poem for Mother's Day.

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of rose wine.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees going nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gather acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
— "Try to Praise the Mutilated World" by Adam Zagajewski (Polish poet, b. 1945)
Posted on May 11, 2015 .