for Mother's Day
... and as it's Mother's Day in Australia on Sunday, another poem from In Prayer and Protest (Pocket Poets #8)
We celebrate and give thanks, each of us,
for our mother. The woman who carried us in her womb, gave birth to us, brought
us into life.
celebration and lament for mothers’ day
as a community, we take time to pause and give thanks for the gift of mothers.
shining a light on the gift, shadows fall, and we acknowledge the shadows, too.
|A rose from my mum's garden|
We lament, each of us, separation from our mother at different times, through conflict, distance of place, death. We lament, seek to forgive and be forgiven.
We celebrate and give thanks, each of us, for those who have been as mothers to us; our aunts and pseudo-aunts, big sisters, friends, mentors and teachers. The women who have nurtured, taught, encouraged, shaped us with love.
We lament, each of us, the women who have caused us pain, who have abandoned or neglected us, mistakenly or intentionally caused us harm. We lament the hurt we have caused to women, our friends, colleagues, neighbours, sisters, aunts and mothers. We lament, seek to forgive and be forgiven.
We celebrate and give thanks, together, for the women in our communities. That women and men are different invites us into partnership, invites us to share the burdens and the joys of life. For the many strengths of women, their gifts of peace-making, nurture, education, entrepreneurship, healing, wisdom, creativity, endurance, collaboration, physicality – and so much more, we are grateful.
We lament, together, that women are still discounted because they are women, in our culture and in others. That the difference between women and men is seen as threatening, a power struggle, a competition or a hierarchy, is not, we know, your dream for us. We lament, seek to forgive and be forgiven.
We celebrate, those of us who are mothers and grandmothers, the joy and privilege it is to collaborate with you in the creation of life. We give thanks for our children, their uniqueness, the delight we find in watching and helping them grow.
We lament, those of us who are not mothers and want to be, or who are mothers of children who have died. We lament, and have no words for our grief.
We celebrate, we give thanks, for you, our mothering God, whose wings enfold us like those of a mother hen, who gives birth to all that lives, who loves fiercely, protectively, and with great delight. We celebrate what we know of you as like a mother.
We lament our turning from you and causing you pain, our rejection of your gifts of life and love in so many ways. We seek your forgiveness again and again.
Again and again, God welcomes us home, as a mother welcomes her children.
Again and again, God celebrates us, God’s children, and delights in watching and helping us grow.
Come, now, under the wings of God; come, now, into the warmth of Love.
You are forgiven. You are loved. Precious child of your Mothering God.