What I Really Want from the Church for Mother's Day (and Every Day)

The first fruits of this year's Mother's Day
school crafts, from Boy 1

Mother’s Day is a hot topic right now – specifically Mother’s Day and church. Articles, blog posts, observations, and reminders about the second Sunday in May are all over my Facebook news feed. Last year’s very popular post from The Messy Middle blog, “An Open Letter to Pastors (A Non-Mom Speaks about Mother’s Day)” has gone viral all over again, although in my opinion, my good and very thoughtful friend Linda says it better (with both her words and her mad photography skills) when she asks churches not to observe Mother’s Day at all.

And just the other day, I had the kind of conversation that only we 21st-century folks can have – exchanging comments on a Facebook status – with my friend Sandy, who now lives in Germany. It started when she asked this question about the culture she’s still getting to know:  “So, Men get Männertag, which is also Vatertag (and Himmelfahrt), but it is specifically not just about fathers...so is there a Frauentag that is not just about mothers? Or is Muttertag still pretty much Muttertag?” I chimed in with my personal frustration about Muttertag really being just another Kindertag (I don’t think you need to know German to get that). She shared some of her difficulty in dealing with Mother’s Day both as a non-mom and as a person whose relationship with her own mother, well, Hallmark doesn’t make a card for that. Our serious thoughts gave way to more jovial ones when I Googled “Männertag” and found this article which sent us all into hysterics: “Pints for Papa: Father’s Day in Germany is One Big Booze Fest.” My favorite line from the article explains, “By no means limited to fathers, Männertag or Herrentag, which translates as ‘men's day,’ is open to any male who wants to demonstrate his loutish, caveman side.” So we had fun speculating what a real Women’s Day, just plain celebrating womanhood (without feeling obliged to tie that to biological functions), would look like.

So, you see, I’ve had a lot to think about regarding Mother’s Day lately. And this is, at least so far, what I think of it – as a mother, as a daughter and granddaughter, as a friend to many women for whom this day is painful (for many different reasons), as a person who has my own Mother’s Day pains, as a Christian, and as a churchgoer:

(I’m breaking up my thoughts into three parts…)

What does motherhood mean to me? 
Motherhood means having a child and then doing whatever you can to give that child a good life. Not all mothers get this right. None of us do it perfectly. “Having a child” doesn’t necessarily mean “birthing a child.” It can mean adopting or fostering a child. It can mean loving on a niece or nephew or a friend’s child. It can mean volunteering to teach children’s Sunday School or Vacation Bible School year after year after year. It can mean sponsoring a child that you’ll never even meet. And yes, motherhood and fatherhood have a lot in common.

Of all the mothers in the Bible, the one who is the best role model is God. Earlier this week, I found my old prayer journal from May, 2010. Two of my friends had children who were deathly ill at that time. (I have written about one of them before, here; on February 18 of this year, he earned his wings.) I had written: “I look at Boy 1, building an elaborate train set all over the living room. I think of Boy 2 – I see him in my mind’s eye – asleep in his bed, growing and thriving even at this very moment. I think of J and little K, praying for answers (I pray for them too!) in the hospital. And I think of Vinny as S found him earlier this week, crying and bleeding in the bathroom. There is, I think, nothing scarier than being a parent. I would rather go to hell myself than see my child suffer. Not even just my child – if, at this moment, I could make V or K better by going straight to hell, I would. But that is not an option for me. Only you had that option, and as a parent I can see just a glimmer of why you did it. Earthly life is not without suffering, but because of you, we can live our earthly lives knowing that our eternal lives will be completely free of suffering.”

So I say God is the best role model for mothers, not because we need yet another unattainable standard of perfection, but because God saw her children suffering and did all she could. God just happens to be able to do more than the rest of us. And furthermore, God models mom friendship for us by standing by us, listening to us, not belittling us for our mom fails but lifting us up when we’re down, telling us it’s going to be okay, telling us that even these mistakes we make on a daily basis don’t make us bad mothers, and yes, praise God, stepping in and filling in when we need help.

And for those who find Mother’s Day painful because they’ve lost a child, God knows what that feels like, too.

How would I like the church to treat Mother’s Day?
Really, I don’t mind if the church does nothing for Mother’s Day. I don’t need to stand and be recognized for being a mother. Everybody who has seen me in the church’s halls with my children (usually calling after them not to run in those same halls) already recognizes that I am one. I don’t need or expect the church to give me a flower or some other gift.  And I really don’t want to stand or receive a Mother’s Day token while knowing that causes great pain to many of my fellow women.

What I, specifically as a mother of young children, need from the church is:
● Quality Christian education for children. Even though Big Boy and I both have B.A.s in Religion and have both been to seminary, we can’t do this Christian formation thing alone. Our kids need to know other adults’ stories and perspectives, they need to know that other adults in the church love them, and they need a chance to learn alongside their friends.
● Child care. Beyond Sunday morning, I need you to recognize that there are some church events I can’t take part in without child care. Bible studies, committee meetings, choir practices – believe me, you do NOT want my children sitting in a corner looking at books while I try to do these things. Because that trick only works for about 2 minutes. And I need you not to assume I want to work in the nursery (or teach children’s Sunday School or choir, etc.) or that I somehow owe it to the church to take my turn doing so. Just because I’m a mom doesn’t mean I just loooove taking care of everybody’s children at every single opportunity. My heart and God-given gifts long to serve the church in other ways.
● Support and help for my parenting. I don’t mean yet another set of “how-to” rules to follow. I mean compassionate, listening ears. I mean sound advice, carefully given. I mean the chance to get away from my kids once in a while. I mean opportunities to learn and grow with my children. I mean a parenting discussion (or perhaps venting) group. I mean things that remind me I’m not alone, I’m not the only one who feels overwhelmed and in over her head with this whole motherhood thing.
● Some “God our Mother” language to go along with all the “God our Father” language. Remind me that God is my role model in mothering as in all else. Remind me that God is MY mother. Remind me that mothering is a godly calling.
● Opportunities for all the women in our church to shine. Mothers are not the only women doing hard, important, godly work around here. Not only do I want this for my fellow ladies, I need it for my children. I need my children to see that women are empowered and appreciated in and by the church.
● Care and support for the mothers in our community and around the world who do not have the resources to care for their children that I do. Even though it means making sacrifices and often squeaking by, I am able to give my children a home in an area with clean water, good schools, and safe places to play. I am rich in family who are able and willing to help me provide my children with plenty of clothes, food, enriching experiences, and more books than some school libraries. I want those things for all moms, everywhere. Help me to lift up my fellow moms. Lead the way in following God’s example as a good mom friend.
● Support and recognition (but not necessarily the stand-up-on-Father’s-Day kind) for all the fathers, too.

(By the way, this isn’t a critique of my current church, but more general thoughts. My church is good at some of these things already, although I would like to see us develop along some of these other lines.)

So that’s my contribution to the Mother’s Day shelf in the Food for Thought Pantry.  What are your thoughts? Does your church “do” Mother’s Day? If so, how?

Ruth 4:11-12 - The Blessing of our Mothers Leah, Rachel, and Tamar

I am "blogging through" the book of Ruth.

To see the whole journey thus far, click on the button below.

“Then all the people who were at the gate, along with the elders, said, ‘We are witnesses. May the LORD make the woman who is coming into your house like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the house of Israel. May you produce children in Ephrathah and bestow a name in Bethlehem; and, through the children that the LORD will give you by this young woman, may your house be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah.’”

- Ruth 4:11-12

When last we looked in on Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz, their story reached its apex as Boaz confronted the unnamed next-of-kin. We all sucked in our breath as we thought, for a split second, the other guy was going to claim Naomi’s family’s land and Ruth along with it, and then exhaled with relief as he changed his mind. Before a crowd of witnesses, Boaz claimed the land and announced his intentions to marry Ruth.

The thing about any story is that the stuff that happens after the climax is, by definition, anti-climactic. When it comes to stories like this one that we have heard so many times, we may be tempted to skim or even skip over the last few sentences, where nothing much actually happens. To be sure, there isn’t much action at the end of the book of Ruth; it’s mostly just some lofty talk tied off with a genealogical list. But let’s don’t skim over it this time. I think there are some real treasures in there.

The lines in Ruth 4:11-12 are the response of the crowd who just witnessed the interaction between Boaz and the other next-of-kin. By saying “we are witnesses,” put a legal stamp on the transaction. Neither man can legally go back on what he said now, because his words (and the ceremonial passing of the sandal) were officially witnessed and acknowledged.

But then the legal words give way to words of blessing as the people express their hopes and prayers for Boaz and his new bride. It’s no surprise, in this ancient setting, that what the people hoped for was for Boaz and Ruth to have many children. What’s maybe a little surprising is the way they express that hope, saying, “May the LORD make [Ruth] like Rachel and Leah” and “may your house be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah.”

Rachel, Leah, and Tamar were all three famous matriarchs of Israel. Rachel and Leah were quite literally two of the mothers of the Twelve Tribes of Israel, between them giving birth to Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun, Joseph, and Benjamin. But nothing about their stories was sunshine and roses: it was because her father tricked Jacob that he married her in the first place. It was because Leah was unloved by Jacob that God “opened her womb” and enabled her to bear her first four sons (Genesis 29:31-35). It was out of their jealousy of each other that Rachel and Leah gave their maids over to their husband, and from them came Dan, Naphthali, Gad, and Asher (Gen. 30:1-13). It was because Rachel traded a night with Jacob for a handful of Leah’s mandrakes that Issachar was born. It was on the road to Bethlehem that Rachel died giving birth to Benjamin (Gen. 35:16-20) – the same Bethlehem where the story of Ruth takes place and the same Bethlehem that to this very day honors the site believed to be Rachel’s tomb. 

And Tamar? Can you even think of a more scandalous story? Tamar was chosen by Judah to marry his son Er, but he died. So Judah gave Tamar to his second son, Onan; Onan did as his father said, but made sure he would not get Tamar pregnant (which pretty much defeated the purpose as far as Judah was concerned). Then Onan died. Despite the fact that the Bible attributes Er’s and Onan’s deaths to their wickedness, Judah was afraid that Tamar was the unlucky cause. So he promised her to his youngest  son, Shelah, but never followed through. As a sonless widow, Tamar was practically valueless in ancient Hebrew society. No man would want to marry a woman who wasn’t a virgin and who, for all they could see, couldn’t bear children. She had nowhere to go except back to her father’s house, and no hope except that Judah would one day give her to Shelah. After Judah’s (unnamed) wife died and Shelah grew up, Tamar desperately took matters in her own hands. She went to see Judah. He thought she was a prostitute and treated her as such, but not before she got from him his signet, cord, and staff – three identifying objects. Three months later, when word got out that Tamar was pregnant, Judah stormed off to burn her to death. Then she pulled out the signet, cord, and staff, and Judah was forced to acknowledge the truth, saying, “She is more in the right than I, since I did not give her to my son Shelah” (Gen. 38:26). Even Tamar’s birth story is fraught with drama; as one twin stuck out his arm first, the midwife tied a red cord around it to identify him as the firstborn, but then he pulled his arm back in and Perez pushed his way out first. Zerah, the one with the red thread on his arm, was born second.

So what exactly does it mean to bless someone by saying “May God make you like Rachel, Leah, and Tamar?” In the context, it obviously means a wish for sons, but I like to think it means more than that. I think it means: May you be strong. May you be resourceful. May you be persistent. May you never give up. May you make the most of opportunities that present themselves to you. May you be clever. May you find comfort and refuge in God when you cry out to him. And - as these three women were not representative of sweet, stainless, perfect lives - may you be real.

In many ways, Ruth already was those things, and had proven so in her life with Naomi. I think that’s why the people liked her, accepted her, and blessed Boaz’s marriage to her with these hopeful words.

And I think that’s a wonderful blessing for all of us, women and men, boys and girls, all of us, each somewhere along the journey of life.

Cross Crafts for Easter

One of my favorite parts of my job (I'm teaching preschool now, if you need help keeping up) is making crafts with the kids. I love watching them work, and I love seeing how they put their own touches on things. Plus, like many of them, I still like to cut and glue and color things, too.

Last week, we did a couple of cross crafts to go along with our study of the letter J (for Jesus, you know) and to decorate our hallway for Easter. I think they turned out marvelously. I wanted to share them with you all in case you have a day off from school tomorrow (like we do) and would like to do something Easter-themed with your kids. These were done by four- and five-year-olds, but they could be adapted into something a little more challenging for older kids. (Or let your older kids do all the prep work!)

Cross Craft #1: "The Old Rugged Cross"

This craft is about as simple as it gets, but the result is quite stunning. Paint a brown cross on a large piece of white paper. When it dries, cut around it. Attach a purple ribbon with some double-stick tape on the front and back.

After Easter, we'll be taking off the ribbon and replacing it with a construction-paper heart on which each child wrote the word "love."

I really don't know where the idea for this craft originated. It's something my co-teacher has done in the past and pulled out of her files.

Cross Craft #2: "Stained Glass Crosses"

Aren't they pretty? For the life of me, I can't remember where I first saw this idea. (If I ever remember, I'll come back and give credit where it's due!) Make a cross shape on cardstock with painters' tape (it comes off MUCH easier than masking tape). We used half sheets of cardstock (which was good, because these littles would definitely have lost interest before they covered a full sheet). In our class, we used dot markers like these in primary colors and jewel tones, but you could use crayons, markers, watercolors, or whatever you'd like. Just make sure you leave no white spaces, especially around the edges of the tape. When it's all dry, remove the tape oh-so-carefully. I backed them with black construction paper when I hung them in our hallway because I thought it would look better. You know what? I was right. The black backing really made the colors pop.

What I loved the most about this project was that 15 kids did this with the same 12 dot markers, and they all turned out so differently - yet each one is truly beautiful. Huh. I think there's a lesson in there somewhere.

Our school building is also a church, so I like to think that the worshipers as well as the students, parents, and teachers feel blessed each time they see our lovely cross crafts.

I hope and pray that you will also be blessed this Easter weekend!

Saint Patrick's Superpower

image source:
Readings from the Church Fathers

I love Saint Patrick’s Day. I love wearing green and making green crafts and eating green snacks. I love Irish folklore.  And, of course, I love any day that celebrates church history. With March 17 falling on a Sunday this year, I got the added bonuses of singing a choral version of “Saint Patrick’s Prayer” in the church choir and seeing, from my vantage point in the choir loft, at least half of my church’s congregation wearing green. 

I also really love Saint Patrick’s story. Legends tell of supernatural feats like driving the snakes out of Ireland and divinely-inspired teaching using a shamrock, but it’s his real-life, miraculous power of forgiveness that truly impresses and inspires me. 

An ancient letter generally believed to have been written by the real Saint Patrick (you can read a translation here) tells the story of a boy from Britain, the son of a deacon and grandson of a priest. At age 16, he was kidnapped and taken to Ireland, where he was enslaved as a shepherd. During his enslavement, he prayed many times a day and his faith grew. (Read that sentence again. Seriously.)  After six years, he escaped and eventually made his way back home.

Now, stop for a minute and think about what you would do in his place. Think about what plans you might make for your life. Think about how you’d feel about anyone or anything remotely Irish. Think about whether you’d ever do what Patrick did: he went back to Ireland to serve the people there as a priest and later a bishop.

Patrick had everything in his life taken away from him, but when he got it back, he followed God’s call to give it away to the very people who had taken it in the first place. That had to take a remarkable – you might say supernatural – amount of forgiveness. 

I’m going to be honest with you. I think I’m so impressed with Patrick’s powers of forgiveness because I struggle so much to forgive. I have a tendency to hold on to hurts and embarrassments. I still feel angry at myself for countless mistakes, some made many years ago. I occasionally still wrestle with memories of childhood bullies or times when adults who should have cared for me let me down. Over these past few years, I have labored mightily under a cloud of bitterness toward the person who was most directly responsible for our relocation to Memphis. And to be really honest, the longer our house goes unsold, the longer we keep hemorrhaging money paying both rent here and mortgage there, the harder it is for me to let that bitterness go. It’s like the wound is reopened rather than left alone to heal, every time someone asks me how things are going with the house, every time we write another blasted mortgage check, every time our hopes are raised just to fall again, over and over and over. 

Last Sunday, to go along with the parable of the prodigal son from Luke 15, this quote was printed in my church’s order of service: 

“Any way you look at it, this is an alarming story. It is about hanging out with the wrong people... It is about giving up the idea that we can love God and despise each other. We simply cannot, no matter how wrong any of us has been. The only way to work out our relationship with God is to work out our relationship with each other.” – Barbara Brown Taylor

I think that quote could just as easily be about the life of Saint Patrick as it is about the prodigal son and his loving father. It could also be about the lives of you and me, in our daily efforts to follow God’s commands to forgive and love. Loving God means loving each other and ourselves. Loving each other and ourselves often means forgiving. Forgiving means letting God take over our hearts. 

When Saint Patrick let God take over his heart, he gained a life more fulfilling than any he could have imagined, a life through which God worked wonders, a life whose impact is still felt today.

I don’t expect my life to change a whole country or ever to have my own personal holiday, but what I expect, by the grace and power of God, is for my life to change. I know God is calling me to forgive. God is asking me to let him take over my heart, so that I can truly love even the people who have hurt me, including myself. And when the day comes that I can find no hint of bitterness in my heart, no pain in the old wounds, I expect to celebrate!

A Prayer for Today:

Dear God,

Your remarkable, transformative love is written in the lives of so many who have come before us - in kings like David, queens like Esther, and ordinary mothers like Hannah; in believers like John the Baptist, sinners like Saul, and seekers like Lydia; in martyrs like Valentine, mystics like Hildegard, and dedicated teachers like Patrick. Thank you for the knowledge we have of our collective past; let it instruct us as we move through the present and prepare us as we step into the future. Please write your love on our lives; write over the hurts we hold onto and erase the bitterness that grows in the dark corners of our hearts. Bring us closer to your kingdom by bringing us closer to each other.

Amen.

Ruth 4:1-10 - The Turning Point

I am "blogging through" the book of Ruth.

To see the whole journey thus far, click on the button below.

No sooner had Boaz gone up to the gate and sat down there than the next-of-kin, of whom Boaz had spoken, came passing by. So Boaz said, “Come over, friend; sit down here.” And he went over and sat down. Then Boaz took ten men of the elders of the city, and said, “Sit down here;” so they sat down. He then said to the next-of-kin, “Naomi, who has come back from the country of Moab, is selling the parcel of land that belonged to our kinsman Elimelech. So I thought I would tell you of it, and say: Buy it in the presence of those sitting here, and in the presence of the elders of my people. If you will redeem it, redeem it; but if you will not, tell me, so that I may know; for there is no one prior to you to redeem it, and I come after you.” So he said, “I will redeem it.” Then Boaz said, “The day you acquire the field from the hand of Naomi, you are also acquiring Ruth the Moabite, the widow of the dead man, to maintain the dead man’s name on his inheritance.” At this, the next-of-kin said, “I cannot redeem it for myself without damaging my own inheritance. Take my right of redemption yourself, for I cannot redeem it.”

Now this was the custom in former times in Israel concerning redeeming and exchanging: to confirm a transaction, the one took off a sandal and gave it to the other; this was the manner of attesting in Israel. So when the next-of-kin said to Boaz, “Acquire it for yourself,” he took off his sandal. Then Boaz said to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I have acquired from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. I have also acquired Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, to be my wife, to maintain the dead man’s name on his inheritance, in order that the name of the dead may not be cut off from his kindred ad from the gate of his native place; today you are witnesses.”

Ruth 4:1-10

It has taken me a while to write about this passage simply because there are so many things I could say about it. I could write about how Boaz lost no time in seeking to overcome the last obstacle to his and Ruth’s happiness. I could write about how Boaz obviously knew how to deal with this man, knew exactly how to present the case. I could write about how Boaz acted in a way that no one could find fault with, making sure everything he did was proper – and properly witnessed.  I could write about the irony in that neither Ruth nor Naomi are present in the climax of the story (except then you’d probably expect me to say something about what that means, and I really have no idea).

But what I really want to point out is the way that so many of the things we have talked about come together in here at the apex on which the whole story hinges. We’ve talked about several fortuitous circumstances, like Ruth’s going to Boaz’s particular field, and here, when the next-of-kin arrives at the gate at the same time as Boaz. We’ve talked about working to create change, like when Ruth approached Boaz, and here, when Boaz approaches the next-of-kin. And we’ve talked about times when you have to just wait and see what happens because you can’t control your environment; here, Boaz can influence the other man’s response by the way he presents the situation, but he can’t ultimately control it.

Dulé Hill: smart guy.
Photo source: usanetwork.com

About a week ago, I was about to turn off the TV when I heard PBS’s Tavis Smiley say his guest for the evening was actor Dulé Hill. (You may know the latter as Gus on “Psych,” Charlie on “The West Wing,” or, if you’re like me, Sam the Onion Man in the movie “Holes.”)  Normally I don’t watch talk shows, because I just don’t much like them, but I do rather love Dulé Hill, so I ended up watching the whole thing. He said a lot of things worth repeating, but for the sake of focus and brevity, I’ll give you just one bit:

“I don’t believe anyone in this world does everything all by themselves. I don’t believe in ‘I pulled myself up by my bootstraps.’ There’s too many things that have to happen for you to sit here and for me to sit here. No matter how committed you are or how talented you are or how focused you are, millions of things have happened just for you to sit right here. So for myself, I look to maximize it. Any opportunity that I get, any blessing that I get, any door that is open for me, that’s my thing: ‘Dulé, maximize it… Don’t play games with it, because there are many other people who would like to have this opportunity.’ So I don’t really try to explain it. I receive it and I’m thankful for it and I’m humbled by it and I try to do my best with it. Like I always say, life is not a race, a sprint, and it’s not a marathon; it’s a relay. So run your leg the best way you can. And that’s really what it’s about: it’s about this is what was given to me, so I’m going to do what I can do so that when I hand it off, the next person can run with it also.” 

- Dulé Hill (You can watch the full interview here; this quote starts at about the 19:45 mark.)

There’s so much about that quote that I like. I like the idea of acknowledging the work of others (and even uncontrollable life circumstances) that brought you to this moment. I like the idea of trying to get the most out of every opportunity. And I really like the idea of maximizing opportunities not just for yourself, but for those who come after you, those for whom you will have the chance to give their own opportunities.

This passage is the big turning point of the book of Ruth. There will be no more conflicts or disasters, nothing left to stand in the way of the happy ending we all want to see for Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz. Even though, of those three, it is only Boaz who appears in this scene, it took the efforts of all three to get the story to this point. And without anticipating the next set of verses too much, we can go ahead and say that this is the point at which the baton begins to be handed off. Naomi, Ruth, and Boaz have run their leg of the race almost to the end. I’ve never run track, but even I know that a good relay runner gets ready to hand off the baton before she stops running.