With Mother’s Day on the horizon, I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a mother. In truth, I don’t know; I’m not one. But over the years I’ve watched the women we work with being mothers. I’ve seen them pour everything into their families and seen the central role, the foundational role, that their children play in their lives.
Watching them, I’ve come to understand that being a mother is hard. It is the hardest, most arduous job one will ever have. The task of raising children is relentless. There are constant needs, constant tears, constant expenses, and constant struggle, especially for those living in poverty. Saying the women work hard is an understatement – they are in a perpetual state of work. It is what they do – day in, day out – with the hope of giving their children a better life.
Yet, in the midst of the constance of motherhood, they are joyful. How can it be that while a 3-year old wails into her skirt and a is baby strapped to her back and a 5-year old yanks her arm refusing the walk, that she still smiles? How are giggles entwined with hauling sacks of potatoes from the campo or embroidering 12 hours a day? How do they find time for happiness?
What I’ve learned from the women, and especially about motherhood, is that in the most difficult, the most grueling, the most exhausting tasks, there is a deep well of love that serves as the headwater to joy. Love for their children propels them through the muck, gives them the strength to carry on, and provides the energy to be happy. What a blessed thing it is – to hold a well of nourishment so deep that it is unshakeable.
Although cliche, I can think of no better way to put it – mothers are the superheroes of our time. Not because of their strength, their determination, or their unwavering abilities – for their love. A love that is the backbone of everything they do. Every beautiful, mundane, and transformative action that they put into the world.