On Mothers
Margaret Stortz

One thing I know about motherhood—it never ends. Those sweet little children may have gray hair now; they are still our kids. They may have more money than we, or maybe a whole lot less; they’re still our kids. Or sadly, some of those smiling youngsters may be in prison for serious crimes, serious enough that we may be unable to see them for long periods of time, but they’re still our kids. As mothers, we know that our children come through us and that they don’t belong to us, but there is a reckless unreasoning in us that still feels the connection to them, though they may have long escaped from our bodies. I sometimes think motherhood is not so much a biological condition as a state of mind. Perhaps this is why women who may never have physically borne children can still make fine mothers.

Mothers are built for the long haul. They may be blessed in having a terrific husband and father on hand, but even if they don’t, if they are reasonable and healthy, they are in it to the finish. I don’t think that some will consider motherhood a job, something that is an add-on to our lives. Babies change everything. Even someone who becomes a mother unintentionally becomes highly involved with the tiny person in her care. She may be unsure, even frightened at the thought of such responsibility, but she learns and she accepts. I think a nursing mother feels an almost mystical tie with the child at her breast, knowing that for a brief while the babe is entirely dependent on her flowing substance for its life. I know I felt that way, and I think it’s this tie that turns the hapless young woman into a raging tigress if her child seems threatened.

Good mothers carry healing in their bones…and in their spit! When I was a child, if I fell and scratched myself, my mother simply took a little saliva from her tongue and swiped it on the small abrasion. “There, all better.” Somehow, it worked, even though today we know that this was a highly unsanitary thing to do. Mothers do unusual things at times. I saw a whimsical commercial that featured a mother performing all sorts of outrageous acts to keep her son from harm—jumping over fences, standing in front of him in a basketball game so that another player could not thump him. It was funny and outlandish, yes, but not really removed from a mother’s mind. The creator of the commercial quite understood the button that causes a mother to act, almost without thinking. Maybe it was another mother.

Mothers work from the heart of forgiveness more than anyone I know. Time and time again, things do not turn out the way they would like, and people disappoint, perhaps even a beloved child. They know the meaning of second chances and are willing to give them, and maybe thirds and fourths or fifths. When the Master, Jesus, was asked how often one should forgive, he replied, “Seventy times seven,” which implies continual forgiveness.

Perhaps he was thinking of mothers.

Excerpted from Essays On Everything—From the Sublime to the Ridiculous with a Little in Between, by Margaret Stortz.  This book, published in April 2013, can be obtained from Amazon.com in either a print or Kindle version.