When my brothers and I were younger, we loved to tip over the big rocks that lined my parents' gravel driveway. Often it took two of us to pull and pry and plop a stone onto its side so we could peer underneath. The dirt was rich and loamy, full of slimy worms squirming back into the soil and pillbox bugs scattering for shelter under safe darkness. We'd lie on our bellies in the grass and poke at the world we'd discovered, hidden from the sun and our view just moments before. Sometimes we'd find a strange creeping insect or a shiny new rock to show each other. Eventually we'd grow bored and flip the rock right-side up again, trying to push it back into place. But the stones never settled into their grassy grooves as snugly as they did before we went exploring. Before we uncovered the shadow side. . . . Between Detroit and Beijing, my husband read this post in the airport on his phone, the post about my struggle with the shadow side of Mother's Day. Later he told me that his … [Read more...] about the shadow side
struggle
the problem (and the promise) of mother’s day
I am a mother. Mother's Day is not supposed to be hard. Glossy ads and glittery cards tell me this. I am supposed to enjoy a light and easy day! Put up my feet and pamper myself! Delight my children's affection! Bask in my husband's gratitude! Eat breakfast in bed or indulge in sweet desserts or let the waiter offer me a mimosa on the house because...motherhood. But the reality? It's much more complicated. . . . Do you know who I think about every Mother's Day? I think about my mom, of course. I think about how she still has to pause before answering the supposedly simple question of "How many children do you have?" Because my brother died decades ago, but he is still her son. I think about a dear friend who dreams of adopting, who has been another mother to my boys, who lost a baby to miscarriage. Because the world would not include her among those we celebrate with brunch or flowers, but she is more mother than almost anyone else I know. I think about the baby we … [Read more...] about the problem (and the promise) of mother’s day
to comfort and to challenge
Hanging next to our front door is this Irish woodcut print with the prayer below: God, keep my jewel this day from danger From tinker and pooka and black-hearted stranger From harm of the water and hurt of the fire From the horns of the cows going home to the byre From teasing the ass when he's tied to the manger From stone that would bruise and from thorns of the briar From evil red berries that waken desire From hunting the gander and vexing the goat From depths o' sea water by Danny's old boat From cut and from tumble - from sickness and weeping May God have my jewel this day in his keeping I have always loved this blessing (aside from the dated language) and the image that accompanies it, because I think it speaks to the heart of parenting: the competing desires to protect your child from the dangers of the world and to push him out to explore its beauty. The mother stands watching, waiting; you can almost feel her anxious restraint as she holds back from removing every obstacle … [Read more...] about to comfort and to challenge
