March 17, 2011 ~ Day 98 Circle of Mothers

Today started off pretty badly. I must have a pinched nerve in my neck because for the past three nights I have awakened with my right hand partially or totally numb. It is kind of freaky to awaken and have no sensation in your hand. Especially because the hand in question is my right hand - the one I do everything with.

I sat up and shook out my hand to get the sensation back in it, sighing with relief when the whole thing "woke up" and the circulation came back. It was time to get ready for our day.

It wasn't the right time for me to tell my husband about the hand thing - I should have known better. I learned a long time ago that when you hit a coffee drinker with some form of stress before they've had their first cup of joe, it doesn't always go well.

Foolishly (and sleepily) I told him about my numb hands and was then treated to a five minute op-ed about the need to strengthen my core muscles and ride my bike more.

(Bless his heart. I do love that his solution to all life's problems is to drink more water and get more exercise and sleep. He is probably right! He reminds me of the cute little old man in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" that used Windex for everything. Water and bicycling are my husband's Windex, tee hee.)

At that moment though, I really didn't want to receive a pep talk about getting more exercise.

My sons were running late for school and it was my day to take them. We accomplished breakfast and the making of lunches, and then I asked my elder son to help his little brother find socks and put them on with his shoes while I hopped through the shower. When I exited the shower three minutes later, they were both sitting exactly where I left them... except the little one was throwing a major tantrum.

"No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he shrieked. "I DON'T LIKE THOSE SOCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WON'T WEAR THOSE SOCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

As it turned out, big brother had brought him a very cool pair of Buzz Lightyear socks but he had no interest, likely because they didn't come from me. For the next ten minutes he passionately declared his independence from socks, shoes, and even preschool. At last when I'd gotten all of the other children buckled into their car seats and loaded the car with lunches and jackets, he realized that there was no-one left in the middle of the living room to listen to his rant... then meekly stopped and came barefooted to get into the car. I dashed back into the house, grabbed his Croc shoes, and we were off.

The clock in the car read 8:44. My elder son's kindergarten class starts daily at 8:45. Oh crud.

Racing to school and driving safely do not go hand in hand, so it was much later by the time we got there. Stuffing down my frustration and feelings of failure, we dropped him off at his classroom and headed on.

When we arrived at the parking lot of my smaller son's preschool we realized that the two shoes in the car for him were not the same size. I had accidentally grabbed one of the larger 5 year old-sized blue Crocs and one of the 3 year old-sized blue Crocs. Same color, same style... different fit. One of them looked like a clown shoe on his foot. "Oh dear," I sighed. "Buddy, I don't think this is going to work."

"I don't want to go to school today," he whimpered. "I'm too tired."

I thought about the morning ahead, and how long it would take for us to return home to get the other Croc. I knew that if we returned home, I would be late for the first day of my motherhood fellowship group. "Bud," I replied, "Guess what? Today you don't have to go. Today you can come with your sister and me. We've got something special to do."

"Yay!" he cried happily, and we went to inform his preschool teacher that he would be back on Monday with matching shoes.

Moving swiftly down the hill toward the local Presbyterian church, we found a parking place and I walked flanked by my two little sweethearts into the light of the courtyard. It was a real turning point in my day. "Excuse me," I flagged down a passing woman, "We are lost. Could you please tell me where the childcare is for the mother's fellowship?"

"Of course! Are you new here?" and she warmly welcomed us and directed me to the childcare.

I felt so blessed and lucky to leave my little ones in the obviously competent and caring hands of the church childcare teachers, who were working on a variety of craft projects and games. It took my son and daughter all of one minute to acclimate and begin to make friends with the other kids. Handing me one electronic pager for each child, I left them feeling peacefully assured that should they need me for anything - a diaper change, a hug, or 'just because' - I would know it instantly.

The mothers' fellowship is held on the second floor of a beautiful church complex. Each mother wears a nametag including her name and the names and ages of her children. This is so, should you meet a new friend, you can look right on her nametag to see if your children are of similar age and perhaps well suited for a playdate.

As explained to me by the mother who invited me to come to the fellowship, you can be of any faith background to join. They have dedicated worshippers, occasional worshippers and even people with no faith at all. It is a shared fellowship for mothers to be there for each other as we navigate this challenging and beautiful time in our own lives.

I arrived right at the start of the actual meeting, where announcements were made. Then came the devotional, which turned out to be a really moving speech by the same woman who had invited me to come to the meeting. She is about to move back to Tennessee with her husband and two children, and she spoke this week on the theme of what is temporary in our lives... and what is eternal.

Her message was that we as mothers often misplace our sense of security in a job, a house, a relationship or even our children... when really all of that is temporary and can be lost in an instant. She was reminding us that faith and love are eternal, and the true safe space in which to feel secure.

We then broke into small groups to discuss her questions, and our small group talked about the recent earthquake and tsunami being a perfect example of how fragile are the many places in which we place our sense of safety - how everything can be swept away in an instant. We talked about how much of our current sense of security and identity comes from motherhood. Some of the women in my group were crying openly, which was such a cathartic thing to experience.

I was so grateful for the chance to listen to the other mothers reflect on what is happening in Japan because it is all I have been able to think about this week and I have had no-one to talk with about the heaviness hanging on my heart. Turns out, I am not alone. Maybe every mother in the world feels this way right now.

Finally, we closed with praise and prayer requests... which also really opened my eyes to the fact that suffering is universal and not nearly so personal as I normally feel it to be. So many women in the group asked for prayers for their parents, friends and children. Two children from mothers in the group were in the hospital (their mothers were not at fellowship today, obviously) so we prayed for them to recover from their pneumonia and intense asthma. Three of the women had parents who were about to go through heart surgery. Another woman was about to experience double masectomy, similar to what my dear friend went through one month ago.

All of the weight of my own burdens gradually seemed a little easier to bear. Sure, I woke to a lousy early morning and my hand wasn't working. In the end, this will be temporary. It will be fixed I am sure through chiropractic help, acupuncture, physical therapy or surgery. I am young and I have so much potential for healing. Sure, my children take my breath away with their tantrums, aggression and general intensity. They will grow, things will get better. Yes, I definitely miss my husband so much when he works long hours and I am alone with the children... but someday we will take a vacation, and some day in the far-flung future, he will retire. We will have real time together again. It is all temporary, she is right.

I won't lie, there are definitely moments in every week when I cast up my hands to heaven and ask for help because I am feeling so overwhelmed just by living the family life I used to pray for.

Yet today I remembered that there are so many worse things happening in the world at this moment - to mothers in Japan, for example, who may have just lost their children to the quake or tsunami and now are faced with possible radiation poisoning. THAT is a tragedy, and yet the Japanese people have shown such grace, poise and faith throughout their mounting troubles. Rather than praying for my own burden to be lifted, it is time for me to pray for those mothers to have their hearts healed from their recent misfortune and terrible loss.

We closed the meeting with a circular prayer, all of us standing around the room holding hands in one large ring. There were about 45 women in total of all ages from grandmothers to first time mothers. Looking around the circle I realized that this was one powerful group of women capable of praying one heck of a powerful collective prayer.

I have never been a very religious person, leaning always toward spirituality without strict codes. This is why my husband and I were drawn to our own faith, Unitarian Universalism, because it is definitely for people who believe in love and social justice but need more flexibility in the boundaries of what constitutes actual worship.

Today however, I found great comfort in joining the Presbyterian mothers fellowship. I came to their church with a burdened heart and left feeling connected and fairly joyful... less alone. The sunny day seemed even brighter as I left to pick up my children, who incidentally had enjoyed childcare so much they did not want to leave and begged me to come again next week.

My take-home from this special morning is that mothers need other mothers; women need the fellowship of women; gentle, sincere expressions of faith are beautiful in any form; and that I need to remember that all of the worries weighing me down on a daily basis are temporary - because life itself is temporary. Love though... love is eternal.