It was one of those lovely summer evenings, before the fireflies were out. There was a meeting for mothers, and since I have not yet been ousted from that club, I was welcome. A friend offered to drive, which made the going and leaving more pleasant. 

Sixteen women squeezed into a screened porch, with the more limber ones on the floor. There was a table full of food which was inviting, and yet from the fact that most people did not have a plateful in their lap, I suspected that they hungered in a different way. 

Each woman checked in, and some chose words like "tired". There was solidarity in the group's laughter. One woman admitted that with two children waking her up during the night she had barely slept at all. Others admitted to both loving and hating their kids. How is that possible? We all understood. 

The woman we had come to listen to shared some of her experience, inviting us to be curious. She offered no concise answers to the conundrum that is mothering, except to nourish yourself each day with a few minutes of reading and a cup of tea. Another woman, whose children are grown, described three A's... Awareness, Acceptance, and Action. For her, the second one eludes her. My mind meandered to those times in my parenting when I was humbled by that same impasse. 

Two other mothers, who are still in the thick of it, offered boundaries that have served them. One found herself berating herself in the shower over the mistakes of the previous day, and anticipating the failures in the one ahead of her. 

"I decided to not be mean to myself in the morning." That simple resolve helped her to mute those incessant voices of rebuke. I liked it.

Another mom made a rule to not make decisions after eight o'clock. She knew that her energy was depleted by then, and if kids hounded her about play dates, or promises for the weekend she might regret her words. I can imagine that her daughters learned something from that simple guideline, and might even give themselves such grace when they too are mothers. 

Small groups were the lifeline of my own journey of motherhood. I didn't know that label then, but I sure shoved shoes on to small feet, and packed a bag with diapers and crackers to get there twice a month. It moved me more deeply than I had anticipated to be with these women. I wished that I could package up some of my ample sleep and give it to them, like cookies on a plate. Some of their children are the ones I sing with in the preschool, and I know their favorite songs. Others brought their little ones to Parent's Night out last month, and it was an honor to give them a few hours of reprieve.  

We went home in the darkness to our homes, having been blessed not with solutions, but with community. It turns out that darkness in life is inevitable. But there are fireflies if we remember to look.