What do I do at mass when the priest wants all the mothers to come forward, and I'm the only middle aged woman remaining in the pews? Do I just let the priest or the pastor give me a rose (or a gift) anyway on mother's day to save face, or do I refuse it because I'm not actually a mother?
It's awkward.
On the way to mass today I was trying to drum up some kind of sentiment regarding Mother's Day, but I just couldn't quite get there. I deliberately tried to meditate on the fact that Mary, the Blessed Virgin, is my mother, but somehow, that didn't console me either.
Last year, I decided to make the St. Louis de Montfort Consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. This was a deliberate act on my part as I try to grow into a relationship with Our Lady. As a protestant convert to Catholicism, learning about, and getting closer to the Mother of Our Lord has been a process of taking baby steps of faith, hope and trust.
It is not a coincidence to me that I did not become Catholic until after my own adoptive mother, Joann Ater Alvis, died. Something powerful happened in those days after my mother's passing. I remember feeling that the veil between life and death was so very thin, almost an illusion. I wondered where she was, and I was sure that where she was, was an actual place, not just some state of mind. I was sure, in those transitional days, that she did still exist, in a real way, and possibly in a place filled with others who had passed on before her, (the Communion of Saints, if you will).
I couldn't bear the idea that she lived on only in my mind as a memory, although, to be sure, she does certainly live in my mind. The point to all this is, I'm pretty sure that my earthly mother, Joann, and my heavenly Mother, Mary, have had a conversation about me, because I just don't think I would've drifted so smoothly into Catholicism without the intercession of those two. I think they were in "cahoots" to intercede on my behalf with Jesus to get me into His Church.
At the time I made my consecration to Mary's Immaculate Heart, I didn't think it had had much of an effect on me. It has been a slow and steady process for me to feel free to devote myself to Our Lady. The changes in me have been subtle. First, I began to wonder about the timing of my mom's death and my own entry into the Catholic Church. Second, I started to notice a difference in the way I viewed my students at school. It's very hard to behave lovingly toward 7th graders sometimes, but I've noticed a difference in my attitude, and in the way the kids respond to me, since I made my consecration.
I'm not a perfect communicator, but I have noticed the students listening more to me, even at the same time they are doing their best to convince me they're not. It's almost a kind of game. Their strategy is to make me think they don't listen, and mine is to talk in such a way that they will listen, even if they don't want to admit it. (I don't care. I'll let them save face, if my lesson goes "in.")
Somehow, I think, as the year draws to a close, they might be starting to get it that I do have their best interests at heart, at least within my sphere of influence as a public school English teacher. I think I might have been able to convince them to believe me that reading, writing and learning are a good thing, and that they might lose their freedom if they don't work to improve their literacy skills.
So I guess what I'm saying is, I don't have a living mother, (with all due respect to my birth mother Judyth, to whom I did make a mother's day call earlier), and I'm not a mother either, but I think Our Lady might be mothering me and mothering others through me more than I know.
One time, during a recent mid-life crisis, I was complaining to a well-meaning protestant minister about being single and alone. This man pointed his finger at me and said, with conviction, "Judi, you are your own family." At the time, that idea sounded so intriguing. There is something to it, psychologically speaking. I really don't need a family to feel like I have one?
Theologically though, I don't think the notion is complete. (God is the only one who is his own family in the form of the Trinity.) When I joined the Catholic Church, I realized what I was really joining was a family, one with lots of mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters.
Therefore, no matter what my emotions might tell me, I think I'll just keep saying "yes" to Our Lady, and I know that now, I can legitimately say, "Happy Mother's Day."
05/09/10
