Our Eternal Mother

By Traci Hubbard

My mother kept every card and letter I gave to her. Last January, after retrieving that last of my mother’s things in Texas that were dear to me, I spent an entire day reading every card and letter she and I sent to one another. I would like to read what I wrote in the Mother’s Day card I gave to her in 1978.

Dear Mom,

Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for not telling Da that me signing my initials and the current year with spray paint on the bridge under Highway I-30 is how the police identified who was responsible to pay for the graffiti removal. I hope you like the flowers. I would have purchased your favorite roses, but I couldn’t afford them.

Love, Traci

I also read a Mother’s Day card from Amy when she was 7 years old. She wrote, “Happy Mother’s Day Mom. My socks would be lost without you.”

My mother never had to strong arm someone for them to recognize how gifted I was. She did, however, slip a few principles and city leaders $20 on occasion. Being the Class Favorite of 1976 comes with a price. I have since learned that having daughters is like having two best friends who think you’re rich.

There’s a moment most of us don’t remember, but it shaped everything. It’s that moment when you were a baby, crying at 2 a.m., convinced the world was ending, because your sock fell off. And somehow, some miracle worker, showed up, picked you up, held you close, and made it all okay again.

Now, if you’re a parent, you know that miracle worker was probably exhausted, slightly confused, and operating on coffee and the wing of a prayer. But to the baby? That was salvation. And today, I want to suggest something that might stretch how we think about our Eternal Mother and that is the love behind that moment, the fierce, tender, sleepless, nurturing love, we often call “motherly” is not just Holy LOVE, it is sweet holy love.

The second Isaiah writer penned, “I cry out like a woman in labor, I gasp and pant.” That’s not the language of a distant architect. That’s the language of someone bringing life into the world through pain. The third Isaiah wrote, “Do I bring to the moment of birth and not give delivery?” Our Eternal Mother is not just creating from a distance, she is birthing, laboring, bringing forth life with intention and commitment. Do you know what this means? You, me, we are not an accident. We are not a side project or a hobby.

We are someone the Divine labored and labors for. And if you’ve ever seen a mother in labor, you know, well, this is not casual work. Nobody goes through that kind of physical, emotional, and spiritual opening and afterwards says, “You know what, I’m thinking I might abandon this project halfway through.” LOVE doesn’t bring us this far, accompany us to this very moment, to leave us. “Can a mother forget her nursing child?”

When Amy was 6 months old, I was breast feeding her during coffee time after church. I was covered with a blanket and always proud I could provide nutrition. Sarah was a little over three years old, sitting next to me, and she notices a woman who is visiting our church for the first time. The woman was sitting next to Sarah, and she observes the woman is watching me. Sarah looks at me, and then turns to the woman and says, “My little sister, Amy, is enjoying her Kool-Aid time. When I was her age, I was drinking the house white.” I never saw that woman again.

I can tell you that being a mother was a lot easier when I was raising hypothetical children, because it is true that parents forget a lot of things. Shoes. Lunches. Extra band aids. That one school project due today. But forgetting a nursing baby? That’s almost unthinkable. And if something painful did unfold, or if we are afraid something painful will happen, Our Eternal Mother assures us, “I will not forget you.” That’s a bold claim. The vibrational love that is weaved inside all our DNA compares divine love to the most instinctive, body-deep care we know, and then says, “Mine goes even further.”

When I was a young mom, I wanted to yell at the mothers pushing their babies in designer strollers, gliding in their stilettos like they were geese on a lake, wearing wide brim Burberry hats. I wanted to scream, “I’m just winging it ladies! My lip liner, my unmatched socks, this whole thing that you see, this is love, and yeah…yeah…I’m not willing to bet my child’s life that I am not wearing yesterday’s underwear, so enjoy your day! I hope you are all happy now.” Thank God no one had cell phones at that time. I would have been on the front page of the Fort Worth Star Telegram.

We read that our Creator and Sustainer is like an eagle, “stirring up its nest, spreading its wings, and catching them.” This is a beautiful way of saying the Holy pushes us and then makes sure we don’t crash during flight. It’s a paradox of love that says, “I believe in you enough to let you try,” and “I love you enough to catch you when you fall.” Each one of us has tried something brave and failed spectacularly, so we are well acquainted with this feeling. Folks, our Eternal Mother doesn’t just protect us from falling. She teaches us how to rise when we do. No one told me, but I figured it out, that for the first 3 to 5 years of my children’s lives my diet would consist of eating the crust I cut off their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and what was left on their dinner plates. That’s why I consistently made asparagus, brussel sprouts, and broccoli and think to myself while eating their veggies, “Hey, you two, yeah, you two toddlers who act like crazy short drunken people, this is not just another pretty face.” 

We also read about the nature of a good mother, “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you.” When we are hurting, when we are bruised or embarrassed, the feminine Spirit doesn’t advise us, lecture us, or say, “Well, this is a learning opportunity, buck it up buttercup.” The Spirit comforts us. Sometimes what we need most isn’t a solution, it is presence. It is a quiet, steady assurance that Rocki needed from her Grammy and me last Tuesday, a presence that communicated, “I’m here. You’re okay darlin. Close your eyes, trust me. I promise love will be here when you wake up from your nap.” The Holy is telling us, “That’s what I’m like.”

Let’s not forget that maternal love isn’t just soft and cuddly, it is also fierce and doesn’t count the costs in loving her children. The prophet Hosea describes YHWH to be like a bear robbed of her cubs. Carrie, this is your description of your love for your children. I imagine all of us have seen footage of a mama bear protecting her cubs, and we know that there is zero hope of a positive outcome in negotiating with that bear. A real-life mama bear doesn’t stop to look at us with compassion and say, “You know what sweetheart, let’s discuss what’s really happening right now.” That mama bear says, “You picked the wrong day to mess with one of my babies.” I can hear my mother saying, “Any day you pick to mess with one of my children is the wrong day.” The love of our Eternal Mother protects, defends, and refuses to let harm have the final word.

In the gospel of Luke, Jesus echoes this love as he stands on a cliff looking over the city of Jerusalem saying, “How often I have desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” The image is almost comical, Jesus imagining himself as a hen! That’s not a very majestic or intimidating image of power. But if you’ve ever seen a hen protecting her chicks, you know she will square up against anything. One of my sons-in-law experienced the love of a mother hen when he was chasing her babies and all I can say is he will eat chicken, but he needs some EMDR therapy regarding his fear of touching a live one.  The love of the Holy is not about our ability to understand how she appears. The love of our Eternal Mother is about her unconditional commitment to our highest good.

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus tells of a woman who loses one coin and turns her entire house upside down to find it. So, let’s imagine what that looked like. She lights a lamp, then she sweeps every corner, all the while muttering to herself, “I know that coin was with the other coins right there on the table. I know it.” And what happens when she finds the one lost coin? She sends out a mass email and invites everyone she knows, saying, “Come celebrate with me!” If that happened today, her friends might say: “You spent three hours looking for a twoonie? I would have given you one and saved you all that worry and time.” But that’s the point. It wasn’t about the coin’s value to anyone else. It was about the fact that it was hers. This is how the heart of the Spirit sees you and sees me.

Friends, we were held by the Holy and by our mother’s imagination before our souls were physically born. We read the poet psalmist writings, “From birth I was cast on you…you have been my God from my mother’s womb.” Before we had language, before we had values and beliefs, questions and doubts, certainties and fears, wishes and dreams, before we spray painted a city bridge with our friends, we were already held.

In the wisdom literature of Proverbs, we are given a glimpse of strength and joy as we are told that, “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and her children rise up and call her blessed.” Folks, this is not fragile love. This is strong, joyful, courageous, selfless, enduring, “I’ve got you no matter what” kind of love. It is the kind of love that smiles when facing an uncertain tomorrow, not because tomorrow may be easy, but because her love is stronger than anything else that may unfold.

Each one of us has been a child, and we remain a child of the Holy. Each one of us are invited to remember that when we imagine, when we think, when we try to perceive who, what, the living and abiding eternal energetic love of our Eternal Mother is like, we need to remind ourselves not to limit our thoughts to just images of power. We are invited to remember the Lover of our souls who labors to bring life…who nurtures and remembers, teaches and catches, comforts and protects, searches and celebrates, and holds us before we even know we need holding. We need to remember LOVE who says, “You are mine. I will not forget you.” And when we remember, maybe, just maybe, the next time our lives feel overwhelming, we can imagine ourselves to be that baby at 2 a.m., sock missing, world ending, and hear LOVE gently say, “I’ve got you. Go back to sleep. I’m still here. And I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Last January, I found a necklace I had made for my mother. It was wrapped gently in toilet paper inside a little box.  I began laughing because I remembered how excited I was when my mother invited me to go through her box of treasures with her. She pulled out a necklace I had made from macaroni, held it up, and smiled.

I became teary and said, “I bet you wore that with pride.” She looked at me, smiled, and grabbed my hand tightly and said, “Darlin, every time I wore it, I wished it would turn into a glass of Chardonnay.”

Today, may we toast everyone who mothered us the best they could. I hope they know the Holy’s got them close too. May it be so, amen.