Motherhood
Posted on by Malinda Collier
From Malinda Collier:
I’ve listened with interest to some the campaign chatter this last week or so. And some of it made me think. Made me think of being a daughter, of the women who were my “mothers,” and of not being a biological mother.
When I was a little girl, a baby really my parents had the opportunity to travel some and so they did. Many times. I was fortunate in that my dad’s older sister was available to be my primary caregiver. And she was so much more. Never having married herself she was in many ways more of a mother to me than my own mom. And given that she was a schoolteacher she needed additional help to take care of me while she was working. From the time I was six months old I was used to being passed from auntie to neighbors to friends – some six or so women in all who on any given day would pick me up, care for me and pass me on as their family/work schedules dictated. What it taught me was that there were many mothers in my life, some of them filling in the gaps my own mother’s limitations left. I grew up secure in the knowledge that if I lifted my hand up a larger loving hand would reach down to grasp it.
Occasionally I get the question, Do you have any children?
For a brief time, I was a stepmother. The man I lived with for several years had two young sons. We had them during the summers and some holidays. I would say at best it was fraught and I learned to walk that fence rail between two parents who still harbored old wounds that they would sometimes inflict on their children. I think about the boys from time to time and pray that they are happy men.
While I was program director at VisArts we offered a popular summer session for children and youth. The youngest came for a late morning class and if they chose could stay through lunch (they brought a bag lunch) for an early afternoon class. Being 6- and 7-year-olds those who stayed through lunch mainly ran around and goofed and maybe drank some of their juice and ate their cookies. Half an hour into the afternoon class it was total melt down. Crying, frustration, bedlam. So, I took to rounding them up at noon and sitting down with them to eat lunch. Most of the conversation was from me: Have another spoonful of your yogurt, take a few more bites of your sandwich, try a carrot stick and do eat some of those apple and cheese slices. One little fella piped up and asked, “Whose Mommy are you?” My answer was: This week I am all y’all’s Mommy. It worked. Afternoon meltdowns averted.
I have on my bulletin board at church a quote the source of which I am not sure of but it goes something like this: it won’t matter how much money I made or how big my office was, what will matter is that I was important in the life of a child.
I take that to heart. I have been blessed to be part of so many children’s lives through the ministry of the church. My life has been enriched by their questions and laughter and occasionally tears. We’ve gone on mission adventures together, planted and tended a garden, learned some of our faith story, packed Food Pantry bags, and shared quiet moments of reflection. Some of these youngsters are grown now with children of their own. Can I be that old?
My hope and prayer is that if they’ve learned anything, if they’ve taken anything away from our time together that first and foremost they know deep in themselves that they are profoundly loved and cherished by a God and a community that sees them as perfect. And I hope that they know if they lift up their hand a loving hand will always reach to grasp it.
Occasionally I get the question, Do you have any children? I think I do.
Malinda