From the comments to my post on Ann Fontaine's essay at the Daily Episcopalian on the Hallmark celebration of Mother's Day in church services.
Mary-Cauliflower said...
The whole mothers' day thing has been a process for me. As someone who never had children, I've made a journey through feelings of inadequacy, irritation, jealousy, and finally acceptance. I admire many women who are mothers and grandmothers. I'm grateful to have my own mom here still. And there is a role that I play as an aunt, teacher, and friend of the family that is gratifying in its own way. Our parish has started welcoming a group of young mothers in recovery - and it'll be nice to see some hearts-and-flowers sentimentality lavished on them tomorrow.
The decision by clergy about what to do in church services on Mother's Day can be fraught. In addition, there are many kinds of mothering done by both women and men who are not birth mothers. What to do? The decision by Mary's church to honor mothers in recovery is excellent.
A repeat for anyone who has ever cared for a baby:
A Cradle Song
The angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.
God's laughing in Heaven
To see you so good;
The Sailing Seven
Are gay with his mood.
I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown.
William Butler Yeats
The picture at the head of the post shows the tiny red climbing rose on our fence that faces the street on the side of our house. Below is the Confederate jasmine, which grows on our side fence. The sweet odor of the flowers can be overpowering at times.
If you want to see gorgeous flowers, go to Paul the BB's blog.
oooo a Yeats poem!! How exciting. Lovely flowers too. I love climbing roses, and jasmine.
ReplyDeleteI am thankful for you, Mimi, Mary, Ann, and for all who have broken through the Hallmark sentiments and brought us complex, thoughtful, and loving meditations and thoughts on the mixture of joy and pain, graitude and despair, admiration, anger, compassion and mourning that fill people in many different ways on this peculiar day. Some essays that have struck me deeply this year include the following: [please copy and past URL addresses - sorry if I don't take the time to figure out how to html code them all ]: Elizabeth at http://telling-secrets.blogspot.com/2010/05/where-theres-will.html , Fran at http://breadhere.blogspot.com/2010/05/rose-among-thorns-story-of-life.html , and Larry at http://renzinthewoods.blogspot.com/2010/05/acceptance.html
ReplyDeleteJim's practice was to only mention it in a single line in the Prayers of the People. As someone used to the corsages and pedestals of the Mother's Day of America's Civic Religion, I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. His view was simply that it was not in the BCP so it should not be celebrated as a religious holiday, but today, looking back, I wonder if it was much more, though I doubt he would have admitted it even to himself (the personal history that would have left him deeply conflicted about earthly Motherhood, though he was very much devoted to the BVM). Today I heard an excellent sermon on mothers, biological and otherwise, and women in general based on the passage in Acts about Lydia. I like both ways, as long as we remember that this can be a very difficult and sometimes painful day for many, as well as day for thanks and admiration for mothers and all others who have mothered with such great love and loyalty and compassion.
Kathy, you're welcome. I'm with Jim. There's much to be said for sticking with the BCP.
ReplyDeleteI'll check out your links.
Oh, and Cathy with a "C", thank YOU. Before I started posting pictures of our flowering plants, I never realized how many different flowers we had blooming.
ReplyDeleteAnd there's a poem by Yeats for a good many different occasions.
Gorgeous roses!
ReplyDeleteI simply added in a collect at the end of the Prayers of the People, adding in the line for those women who have been mothers to us, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, friends, or something to that effect.
The congregation takes care of the Hallmark aspect by having a nice breakfast between the 8.00 and 10.00 services, leaving us at the 9.00 to scramble to eat our scrambled eggs.
I usually add a bit to the prayers of the people, somewhat like what Caminante describes. Some years I had the children give a rose to every woman present - we all nurture one another and I did not wish to discriminate.
ReplyDeleteLove your flower shots; thanks for the linky love.
The rose vine was pitiful looking for the first few years, sparse and scraggly, and I thought it would never be pretty, but now it is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteSomething low-key is perhaps best during the liturgy. I don't know what was done in my church today, because I didn't go. I was all churched out, what with my friend's funeral and the ordination. I don't how you clergy do it.
Lovely flower pictures. When I mention Mother's Day I always mention that not all mothers are "mothering," and that there are wonderful mothering people, male and female, who are certainly worthy of honor. It's always a touchy subject.
ReplyDeleteWhen I informed my grandson in California that I was on my way to a play this afternoon, he asked his father if they could take a plane after breakfast and go to the play with me. That was a great mother's day present.
If they're going to create a holiday I usually ignore it - but I love that my kids and grandkids drop by though. I often see the little ones but don't get to visit with my very busy kids so it is great to share an hour or two finding out how things are with them at times like these.
ReplyDeleteAmelia, what a lovely gift from your grandson.
ReplyDeleteCiss, I had lunch with Grandpère and my two sons. We had our usual arguments over politics until the exchange was becoming heated, and I asked for a change of subject. The day being Mother's Day, my sons complied.
Ah, Confederate Jasmine!
ReplyDeleteIt grows lushly in our neigborhood, covering an ancient cherry tree in my yard. It is a bit like hitting a solid wall of scent on warm, breezeless evenings.