Stories of Messy Motherhood

Anna Jarvis—originator of Mother's Day

This Sunday is Mother’s Day.  The modern incarnation of the holiday dates back to 1908 (second Sunday in May formally became Mother’s Day in 1914.)  Anna Jarvis is the one credited with establishing Mother’s Day in the U.S.  She wanted a to honor her own mother’s memory by continuing the work she started but she also wanted to set aside a day to honor all mothers because she believed a mother was “the person who has done more for you than anyone else in the world.”

It didn’t take long for the secular world to catch on that this honoring of mother could be a good way to make a brisk profit.  After all, everyone has a mom.  As early as the 1920s, Hallmark was already producing cards the day.  Much to Anna Jarvis’s chagrin, Mother’s Day became a Hallmark Holiday.  Somewhere amidst all the frenzied gift-giving, the original noble intent of the Holiday got lost.  Ironically, Jarvis found herself protesting against the commercialization of the very holiday she had worked so hard to start.  She tried in vain to keep the focus more on the sentiments and less on the profits.  (Could we not say similar things about what Christmas and Easter have become in our culture?  Have they become Hallmark Holidays as well—at least for some, if not the majority?)

In church on Mother’s Day we typically read some form of liturgy or say a prayer that acknowledges the broad definitions of motherhood.   We affirm in words the messy reality of life: that while “the person who has done more for you than anyone else in the world” is often our biological mother, it isn’t always the case. 

But even when it is biology that bonds us, the emotions of Mother’s Day are more complicated than the saccharine sweet sentiments, and pithy platitudes of a Hallmark card.  Consider, for example, a sampling of the complex array of feelings about Mother’s Day that intersect with single human life—my own.  Tales of messy motherhood abound.  

Mother’s Day is always bittersweet for my family; in fact, early May is pretty much a time when celebration and sorrow come uncomfortably close together for us. To be honest, I feel challenged to know exactly how to respond to Mother’s Day.  On the one hand, it is a day I want to celebrate my wife, Laurie, for the wonderful mother she is to Brady and Rebecca, our son and daughter,  and my wife and I want to give thanks for our moms, and for others in our lives that have been “like a mom” to us.  

But Mother’s Day also has an inescapable shadow-side for my family. To begin with, my mother has been mentally ill for most of my life, which means that your typical Hallmark sentiment often doesn’t feel applicable to me.  Don’t get me wrong, my mom has given her all for me and my brother, and I’m grateful for that; it’s just that many pre-made cards just don’t quite fit our relationship.  Maybe that’s why I often choose to write my own words—much like Anna Jarvis advocated when she was alive.  

The awkwardness surrounding Mother’s Day goes beyond my relationship with my mom however.  The second Sunday in May always falls close to a somber anniversary for my wife and me.  It was on May 10, 2008, that we had the funeral for Rebecca’s identical twin sister Hope Marie, who passed from life support to life eternal two days after her birth.  Not only that, but Mother’s Day reminds us of another loss.  It was on Mother’s Day in 2007 we found we were expecting; but that pregnancy ended about a month later with miscarriage.  But then life rallied;  out of that loss came Rebecca—and Hope. 

What can one do with all those mixed emotions around Mother’s Day except let it be what it is, and ask for God’s grace to help you navigate it each year?

And this year, there’s another layer that hits pretty close to home for us.  On May 4, the anniversary of our daughter Hope’s passing, Rachel Held Evans, a 37-year old author and theologian whom we both admired and respected for her prophetic witness passed away, leaving behind two children under the age of four. Those two children will have little if any memory of their mother—but her husband Dan will never forget.  Mother’s Day will forever be bittersweet for that family.  And we simply don’t understand why these kinds of things keep happening to “good” people on this planet?? Lord have mercy…

Life often reminds us that mothers aren’t always connected to us by blood—and in the end a mother’s love can triumph over tears.  My wife’s father had five children by his first wife, Nancy, who ironically also died at age 37 of a brain tumor, leaving Laurie’s dad on his own to raise the five boys.  But Ordway was fortunate enough to find love again, and his new wife (Laurie’s mom Dawn) became like a mom to those five boys, plus their three additional children, the youngest of which was my wife. I know it’s way too early to think about, but I find myself hoping that Dan Held can find love again as Ordway did—and find someone willing to be a mom to those two precious children. 

Can a man be like a mom?  Okay, I admit that’s an odd question, but I ask because I think I’ve seen it.  I had a good friend named Joseph Bell, who passed away suddenly about two years ago in September.  Joseph and I were in men’s group together called Godfellas for many years.  He left behind two daughters who were his heart and soul.  Although their mother is still alive, she was never mentally well the whole time I knew Joseph.  He and Diane eventually separated and Joseph had been a single dad for several years.  While the girls still visited their mother occasionally and had some level of relationship, it’s fair to say that for a good chunk of their life, Joseph was both mom and dad to those girls. He didn’t really have a choice. 

Joseph’s daughters have been fortunate to be adopted by another of the Godfellas, and his family.  Steve and Trish Audi already had two children of their own, but Joseph had asked them that question we often ask our trusted friends when we have small children and ask them:  In the unlikely event something ever happens to me, would you take responsibility for my children. Well, Steve and Trish thought about it, and most likely prayed about it, and said, “Yes”.  My guess is that they didn’t think much about it after that.  More pressing matters of life presented themselves and thoughts of the “unthinkable” receded to the background.  

For most of us, that’s as far as that conversation ever goes; it’s a hypothetical promise we will never have to fulfill.  The kids reach legal age, the parents remain perfectly healthy, and the God-parent role, whether we’re formally called that or not, is mostly symbolic.  Perhaps you show up for birthdays, confirmations (or first communions), and other key events in the children’s life, but participation is optional.  Let’s face it, being a God-parent usually doesn’t cost most of us that much.

But then there’s what happened to my friends Steve and Trish. In their case, the rubber hit the road one day in September 2017, and the hypothetical God-parent role suddenly became all too real.   In the days that followed Joseph’s untimely death. the Audis had to decide if they would fulfill that promise they made to Joseph.  It hasn’t been easy for them, but they’ve made an intentional choice to fulfill their promise over the past couple years, and with God’s help (as I am sure they would be quick to tell you) they continue to do it.  One of the girls was legally an adult already when Joseph passed away, but we all know young adults still need parenting in this world; the other was just 12 when Joseph died, so they essentially inherited an extra teenager in their home that already had two teenagers.  Almost overnight, their suburban family of four became a family of six—living in the same house that more comfortably fits four than six.  I never cease to be impressed by how the Audi family willingly took in two more children to honor a promise they made to a friend.  Trish truly became a mom to Felicity and Mellissa, Steve a dad, and their children Meghan and Michael, sister and brother.  

Watching the Audi family welcome the Bell children into their family after their father died has been a true witness to me of the reality that the cords of God’s love (agape) are even stronger than the bonds of human biology.

Consider that Mary was technically not Jesus’s biological mom.  If you remember the story, the child was from the Holy Spirit, and Mary served as a surrogate—a theotokos, or God-bearer. But, of course, history remembers her as the Mother of God, because—in all the ways that matter—that’s who she was!

Whether she intended it or not, I think Anna Jarvis nailed the definition over a century ago when she said that a mother was, “the person who has done more for you than anyone else in the world”.  These examples I’ve shared from my own life, and a matriarchal archetype from Scripture, bear witness to that broad definition.  They illustrate that this description can apply to many people in our lives—not just to the woman who gave us birth.

The truth is, it’s hard to put a boundary on what makes someone a mother—so I for one won’t try to be the gate-keeper. No matter how many lines you add to the litany, you still won’t capture all the categories, because, in the end, motherhood defies words.  I’m quite sure that each one of you reading this article can think of your own stories of messy motherhood to add to what I’ve shared.   Who would you point to in your own life as fulfilling the role of mother? As we celebrate motherhood this week, let us give thanks for all the mothers in our lives, and for God’s Mothering love for the whole world.  Have a Happy Mother’s Day!