One of the six workshops I attended last weekend was about motherhood. No one stopped me at the door for having aged out, which was gracious of them. 

 

It was a blessing to have a few babies in the room, to give credence to our conversation. Even without saying anything, they expressed what motherhood means to them. 

 

One of the leaders reminded us of those people in the bible who were asked to give up their child. Moses was gently laid in a basket, and left to float down the river by his mother, who feared for his safety. Isaac was strapped to an altar, presumably to die, before an angel spoke to Abraham. Hannah had prayed earnestly for a baby, and when God granted that wish, she promised to give him back to serve in the temple as a young child. 

 

Part of the discussion was about being flummoxed. Women said they were making it up as they went along. I know my mother used the words "We'll see", as a way to buy time. 

 

Someone expressed her joy in seeing the tenderness between her nineteen year old and her eight year old. I smiled. This part of mothering felt like an unexpected treasure to me, as well. Adding a baby to a family adds not just one relationship, but one with every other member. 

 

We talked about how children learn to be loving parents. Earlier that day I had sung in the children's program, and marveled at the way junior counselors cared for the little kids. One preteen had a toddler on her hip, and as I left, I asked how it was going. She said he was missing his mom, but now he was alright. As it happened, I talked with her father later that morning, who mentioned that she told them at dinner that it was hard, and yet she kept talking about it with enthusiasm. 

 

There was laughter in the room, as women admitted their failings. There were tears, about things they could not change, either in their own childhoods or those they were creating. 

 

I felt like this was holy ground, and wondered at the vulnerability of it all. God is not surprised by our mistakes, or perhaps even disappointed. 

 

 

 

“Can a woman forget her nursing child,
And not have compassion on the son of her womb?
Surely they may forget,
Yet I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands." Isaiah 49