Hand Cradling Head
In church a few weeks back, I was thinking of my own parental wounds. They’ve been fresh lately for many reasons. I sat behind a family one Sunday at church, and the mom casually reached over to touch the back of a daughter’s head. Just a simple hand-curved touch, a cradling. Nothing meritorious or even intentional. It was like she instinctively knew to let her daughter know, I am here.
Tears wet my eyes in that holy, simple moment.
Because you can’t learn a mother’s love by reading books. You can’t know it in your marrow if you’ve not experienced it tangibly. In one of my novels, an outcasted character said something like, “It’s one thing to mourn a mother who is in a cemetery; it’s quite another to mourn one who chose her absence.”
Reparenting has been God’s way of growing me to health in this area. I have to experience being mothered—in real life. Or I watch it close by like that tender moment in church. I have to see maternal love.
And in the cradle of our new church, I am experiencing the kindness of older women. For that, I am grateful.
Patrick asked me if I had felt like I’d loved our kids well. I told him I tried to; I hoped I did. I cited the sweet fact that all three love me today and want to talk with me, so there must’ve been a foundation of love laid at some point. It didn’t come naturally to me, mothering. It’s hard to give away what you didn’t feel. What you didn’t experience.
I’ve often joked that my parenting strategy was pretty simple. Cry a lot, ask my kids for forgiveness, and beg Jesus to please help me. One of the most profound joys of my life is how much we love each other today, me and our children.
You may not feel like what you do matters, but rest in this: people are watching you. They’re not looking for spectacular. They’re unimpressed by platform numbers or your successes. They want to see you love others. They need to see you forgive, pray for others, carry the weight of burdens.
Life is relationships. And if you’ve been broken in past relationships, you become whole through present ones, particularly those that are healthy, happy, and whole.
I am grateful for the motherly hand cradling a young girl’s head. The mom’s act was not for show. It did not play out on a social media stage. It happened in the context of any everyday church service. She is quietly (and beautifully) living out her calling faithfully. And that faithfulness salved one of the deepest wounds I’ve ever carried.
Love well, friend. Tangibly live your life. Rest in knowing that your actions of love are seen and noticed. Your kindness matters. It changes people’s lives, even if you don’t realize it.
At 68 I still miss their voices, their laughter, their wisdom, their glances at each other, no words needed. Even their imperfections ! Love was not a word thrown around casually in our house.
I had an aunt who made each of her 30 nieces and nephews feel like they were her favorite.
Love does not have to be perfect- just true.
This article profoundly resonated with me. My mother was not mothered well and it showed in how she was with me. She was unable to give much love or attention to me. I never remember a time of walking hand in hand or sitting in her lap, or with my father either. When I had my one and only child, I attempted to give him all I never received, It was draining, especially because I tried so hard. Believe me, I failed often. Later, I became the step-mom of three children, ages 11,13, and 15. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Fortunately, they were not the typical step-children. God knew I wasn't equipped for that level of challenge. Also, I so understand grieving what you never had more than who you lost. Thank you for your transparency.