I live in a condo full of women learning how best to care for others. This spring, mama birds have nested their young securely underneath the awning of stairs which climb over the front door of our condo. The five female guppies I brought home have given birth to upwards of 30 children. Their tiny replicas now flood their ten-gallon tank. Most recently, I adopted a (now twelve-week-old) puppy, whom I named Waffles Sunflower! Every time I return home this spring, the presence of abundance and life calls to mind the concept of “mothering.”
I am flying home from vacation on the island of Oahu, where I spent time with my ex-boyfriend turned good friend; my soul sister; and her soulful cousin. Over four days, I discovered ways to honor and celebrate passion and romantic love; to bless and embrace a new friend made through a true friend, and to soak my brown skin in sand and surf, to rinse and repeat. To indulge my body in physical touch, saltwater, extravagant, colorful flowers, and massive amounts of vitamin D. I spent four days leaning into what it looks like to offer nurturing care to both myself and others.
Several weeks ago, I began reading Theology of the Womb, a rich interpretation of the ways in which women’s reproductive systems and bodily cycles invite us to come more fully to know God as creator. The good friend who had gifted me the book was the same that I would be meeting in paradise. Of course, she would arrive on the island having read the same book in route to the Hawaiian Islands! We pledged our intention to complete the final section of the book before the end of our trip. I finished the final chapters in the air; hers were consumed on the beach.
Author Christy Bauman writes, “Because a woman is made mother by her womb, I beckon us to each learn the song of our womb. This song will teach us the song to sing when we need to calm, comfort, and aid one another through birth and death.”
The theme which emerged on this trip was “rebirth.” My sister-friend was transitioning out of graduate school and into starting her own private practice. Her cousin was in the process of discovering that two years living on the island had made her feel more rooted than she’d ever been. I was marking the shifting of an impactful romantic relationship with a man I love into (perhaps) a continuation of good friendship . We were all leaning in, welcoming the new, the abundant, the unknown yet to come.
During a day spent alternating between sand and surf in Waikiki, my friend and I decided it was time to relocate a little further down the line of ocean, to our next spot. However, as we flip-flopped along the sidewalk lining the beach, we were intercepted by a tiny, wild chick who had fallen from its nest. We, along with a few good samaritans, searched for its mother, which was nowhere to be found.
Without so much as a discussion, we moved into action mode. Desire to respond to the fearful cries of the tiny bird came easily. We collected, contained, and wrapped the baby bird in a beach blanket. We called the Department of Wildlife and the Hawaiian Humane society, and at their urgings recruited the lifeguard on duty, then a local policeman. When no one could help our tiny friend, we trickled water down its beak and offered smashed tofu. We comforted the chick as long as we could, and when we could do no more, we released "Freeda" back to the foot of the tree where we had found him, hopeful its mother would return to her aid.
Mothering is something we first experience as young children. If we are fortunate, we are born into a family in which there is a mother who is present, who loves and cares for us; one who attunes to us and meets our needs. As we mature, we learn that to fully enter true and authentic relationship, there needs to be a mothering of oneself; a calling in of oneself and ones’ desires, with compassion. In learning to honor our own wants, needs, and desires; in mothering ourselves by naming and owning what is out own responsibility; we can learn to be true to who we are and choose relationship and connections that are authentic for the people we become.
Inviting in more love means making room for that love to grow. It means looking our desire in the face with compassion. It means providing care and nurture to not only ourselves, but those around us. It means leaning in and asking for what we really need, even if that means a shift in a title of a relationship. Or a shift in a vocation or career. Or even a shift in place or location.
Motherhood ushers in life, requiring those who choose to do so to pour their lives into someone else. To say “yes” --- to love and service and joy and pain and release and death. Expansive, and abundant, motherhood ushers in life in all forms. Mothering involves inviting in expansion and abundance and creating room for love to grow. It challenges caregivers to be honest; to not only show care, but to ask for what is needed even while meeting the needs of others.
I imagine mothering looks different on different people, that it takes different shapes, including not only giving birth to a child, but adopting, fostering, or mentoring. Mothering includes the presence and authenticity we show up with within relationships of all kinds. Whether embracing a child, our inner selves, a pet, or even (at times) our partners, we are invited to embrace authenticity; to pour out love; to provide nurture and care. Even to someone as tiny as a Hawaiian baby bird.
This post is dedicated to my mom, Marjorie Ruth Briggs Casimere, for the 40 years she has mothered. Without her nurturing care, my brothers and I wouldn't be the people we are today. Happy 40th Mother's Day, Go.
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