I practically tripped into the reception area, teetering under the awkward weight of my weekend bags. Teetering due to the uncomfortable feeling of being in a place where I didn’t know a soul. It’d be okay, I assured myself. The retreat was silent. Worst case scenario, I’d have to make small talk with a couple of women who, quite possibly, felt as out of place as I did until the official silence commenced.
As I looked around the room, I found plenty of friendly looking women, but I also had an overwhelming sense that these women were nothing like me.
I've made no secret of the fact that there are precisely two things I want in life more than anything else. 1) to become the wife of someone whom I adore and who adores me and 2) to be a mother. When you hold something so dear to your heart, sometimes you run the risk of being a little (how should I say this?), "sensitive" about the matter. Shocker, right? Even though I know it's untrue, sometimes I feel like the only single person in the world. Why is the tug to be wife a and mother so painfully strong, but at the same time so necessary to release and surrender? Honestly, sometimes the battle literally takes my breath away.
But back to the story at hand. As I walked around introducing myself to the room full of strangers, my initial suspicions were confirmed. I was the only single woman in the bunch, no exaggeration. Immediately, my mind started drafting exit strategies.
Luckily, the momentum of the schedule left no time for executing said plans, and before I knew it, we were gathering in the main room to get started. The first talk began, and true to what happens when you silence yourself, the words of the speaker seemed to be uttered for my ears alone. He said, "God will use this opportunity. He knows how hard it is to get an appointment with you. Trust in that." Message received. Stay put. The other women and their marital and parental status is inconsequential here. After all, I was making this retreat to hang out with God and listen to what He wanted to say to me. He knows what’s on my mind and heart. He knows what causes me pain. He knows what I need to hear.
Then the priest continued with, "You can offer up a prayer of sadness, joy, despair, whatever. God can not say no to the prayers of mothers and wives..."
Enter "Sensitive Sally" and her missing lung capacity...
Until he added, "or a woman who loves."
When the talk was over, we were ushered into the chapel. I continued to ruminate on the words I had just heard. Well, in truth, I may have been having the teeniest tiniest hint of an internal pity party. “God can't say no to the prayers of mothers and wives.” Figures… the two roles that escaped me. Yes, I’ll take a side of salt for my wound please. I don’t think it’s raw enough. I know at the last minute he added, "or a woman who loves," but, quite frankly, it seemed like an afterthought.
I decided to sit with God on this one. But instead of getting clarity as I knelt in the pew, I started singing. Not out loud, of course. I hadn't completely flipped my noodle… yet. Nevertheless, the song on replay was one of my favorites (thank you Lumineers). At first, I thought nothing of it and chalked it up to a wandering mind. Still, when the broken record in my head looped enough times on the same lyrics, I stopped to actually think about the words floating through my head.
It's better to feel pain, then nothing at all. The opposite of love's indifference. So pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out. And I won't leave until you come downstairs.
The imagery of God and me being the key players in those lyrics snapped me to attention. It was as if He was saying the pain I was feeling was a good thing. Look for the value in that pain. Use it. And above all, know He is there. He would always be there. He wouldn’t give up on trying to reach me until I fully understood that. He was talking to me and it was time to listen. Not just with my ears, but with all of my senses.
Whoever planned the retreat was one smart cookie. The talks are always great, but without time to digest and sit with the information, the experience can start to feel like taking a refreshing sip of water out of a fire hose. During our downtime, I started perusing the library for more answers, or at a minimum, inspiration. The shelves were lined with an abundance of interesting titles, but oddly enough, it was an old familiar friend who ended up sliding off the shelf into the palm of my hand. The book was called I Kissed Dating Goodbye. So much time had passed since I read the book, and although it’s contents were fuzzy, I had not forgotten my initial sense of being impressed. Since the wife/mother theme was at the forefront of my mind anyway, what would it hurt to give the book a second go?
The insights, inspiration, and peace that flowed from the words on those pages into my heart were magical. I was reminded that being single is not something to be bummed about, but instead is a tremendous gift. Enjoy it. Appreciate it. Explore, study, and tackle the world during this time. Make the most of where you are today, and the gifts you possess at THIS moment. Don't let yourself believe you are missing out. You have everything you need to do amazing work in this world right now. Then, trust God will always make good on His promises when the time is right.
At this point, I was feeling better about the single thing. In time, the right man would come. But being patient for love doesn’t have a time limit. You can get swept off your feet at 19 or at 91. But what about motherhood? I have always been keen on the idea of adopting, but letting go of my attachment to the idea of having my own children is tough. How do you hold on to that dream, but at the same time have a freedom of spirit where you aren’t attached to the outcome?
My answer came in the form of a simple question.
I was sitting in on the apostolate conference late in the afternoon and we were discussing the story of Dismus, the penitent thief at the crucifixion. In a nutshell, the love Dismus had witnessed between a mother and her son that day transformed him entirely. He witnessed Mary supporting Jesus and His mission, even when Mary didn’t comprehend the entirety of what was transpiring in front of her. She didn’t have all of the puzzle pieces, but still she chose to have faith. Dismus longed for a mother who would love him with that same unconditional support.
More importantly, Dismus’ miraculous change of heart didn’t go unnoticed. Jesus also recognized the power of Mary’s love and consequently gave her the rest of her apostolate. “Behold your mother,” he said to Dismus, and with those three words Mary began to live the fullness of her mission for the first time. As it turns out, she had a part in the salvation story too. Love every soul to heaven. Mary’s love was strong enough to change the heart of a thief in his final hour. Jesus had given His mother to the world, and the power generated from her love was a force unlike any other.
About this time, the speaker challenged us to look around and see who needed our love. She encouraged us to ask the Lord why He put certain people in our paths and on our hearts. Start asking the Lord who He wants us to love at the start of each day.
Then, she said, “Can you imagine loving others as much as you love your own children?”
My mind immediately flooded with images of the children I used to nanny, my goddaughters jumping into my arms with grasps so tight they threatened my safety, the countless babies in the NICU who I prayed over while rocking and feeding them, the strangers to whom that meal, that thought, that eye contact, that smile, or that kind word may have made a difference, no matter how small or brief the gesture or moment.
Yes, I can imagine loving others as my own children. In that moment, I felt like the most privileged woman in the room. God had given me nearly 37 years to learn to love all His children without restriction, and my need to share my love as a mother was so strong I couldn’t help but find ways to give it away. What if all of these years of wanting but not having my own children were necessary to fine tune my senses to see where a mother’s love is needed? Jesus tasked Mary with healing and loving. She became a mother to every single soul that ever was and ever would be. With Jesus’ words, she became accessible to all and more importantly her love became accessible to all, no matter what their story.
It dawned on me that I had been thinking about motherhood all wrong. Here I was worried I would never get a chance to have my own children, but as the carousel of images spun through my mind, I realized I already was a mother. Every time I get involved, every time I know things may get messy, but engage anyway, I am living a vocation to motherhood. Being able to accompany someone in their life and through their struggles to draw them closer to God is all executed through love. And over the years, the freedom and flexibility gained by not having my own family translated into countless opportunities to fill that role outside the walls of my home.
Maybe the unfulfilled ache to become a mother was a necessary part of God’s plan after all. He knows I am head strong and resourceful. He knew I would find a way to give my love anyway. What if He needed me to give a mother’s love to all of His children who have no one else? If I don’t see them, who will? We don’t have to give birth to or even live in the same house to bless another soul with the love of a mother. How many lives have been transformed through Mother Mary’s love? Mother Theresa didn’t have any kids, but look at the level of love she was able to accomplish. When we treat another person with dignity, we can change their life. The hidden blessing is that the simplicity of my situation affords me the time and focus to seek out those people.
My own mother is phenomenal. As a child, every moment of every day, she showed me love. Not just love, but unconditional love. With every stroke of my hair, kiss on my head, and encouraging word to, “include them, be kind, have faith,” she poured her blueprint for a mother’s love into me, and it was one beautiful blueprint to behold. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized just how different my mom was from so many mothers out there. She helped build a foundation of worth that has been with me since day one, even when the noise of our world tries to say otherwise. That solid foundation is a gift given to me by my mother. That is a gift with a priceless value and tremendous power. That is a gift I know I was meant to give to others.
Love every soul to heaven.
I don’t expect to ever reach the heights of Mother Mary or Mother Theresa, but I do know I was called to be a mother too. The only limits on the power of my love are the ones I put on it. So, why not push the envelope and see exactly what a mother's love can do?
“In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering the moment it finds a meaning. ”