"The night falls, silence.
The darkness breathes quietly.
Just the moon will be awake.
It will cover us in silver.
It will shine from the great sky.
Just the moon will be awake...
The moon of the night,
will sweetly protect us..."
This post is sparked by the concresence of two little bits of ephemera that floated into my world today. One is this clip of Sarah Brightman singing "La Luna" (I have shared the English translation of the first verse, and chorus, above).
And the other was a quote from Alice Walker's mother "Amma," that my friend, Heather, knew that I would love. She was kind enough to post it on my Facebook wall, it reads:
"To a woman, in whom the state of true motherhood
has awakened, all creatures are her children.
This love, this motherhood,
is Divine Love -- and that is God."
Mary Baker Eddy, has much to say about the motherhood of God, divine Love. But for some reason, this quote touched me deeply today. And even thoough, on the surface, this quote and "La Luna," may seem like unlikely co-conspirators...for me, they worked hand-in-hand.
I have been thinking about true motherhood, a lot, lately. I trust God's mothering of my children...all children...so completely. And yet, I often wonder how, and where, I fit in. How can I do it most right? Should I be doing something more, something different? Should I be trying harder?
But this afternoon, as I sat looking at Amma's quote on my computer screen, while listening to Sarah's "La Luna," I got a clearer sense of my role than ever before.
Bear with me...
The moon has absolutely no light of its own. I radiates no energy, luminance, or warmth. It shines only by reflecting the light of the sun.
I know, there is nothing particularly profound about this realization...and its relation to motherhood...at least not intellectually, but something shifted for me today in a more visceral way. I could actually feel the hot urgency...the desire to be better radiating my own mother-light...just seeping out of me. I felt peaceful. It wasn't a coolness of heart, but a coolness of trust in the presence of a greater light than I could ever even hope to transmit...so why try.
I could suddely see that Mother-love is not some light, or energy, that I radiate. Mother-love, in all its forms, is only, ever, the reflection of God...the one and only source of Love.
Like I said, not so earth-shattering a realization for most of you, but for me...well, trust me, it was paradigm shifting.
I could actually feel a deep, cooling peace wash through me. I saw, for the first time, that I don't need to be a great mother, or even a good mother. I don't need to be someone who is so attentive to her children's lives that she never misses a beat. Even if I wanted to be...which trust me, I have...I can't. It's not my role.
The best I can do is turn my life, my face, my heart in the direction of God. And the more I am turned towards God, the more light I will reflect. This light, that has its source in God...the one Light...will help to brighten the path anyone I am blessed to be in the company of..not just my children. And by divine reciprocity, their light blesses and illumines my path.
This is the mother-love that radiates upon "all creatures as her children" and because it knows that it cannot make itself more warm, bright, or luminous; that it cannot choose who to shine on, or when to shine...it is at rest. It is poised and peaceful, it is not heated, overwrought, or impassioned, but calm and thoughtful. It is sweet with clarity of purpose.
Keeping my face turned towards God, the source of all light...instead of looking at my children to see if they are happy with me, at other moms to see how I compare, or even at myself to see if I like what is staring back in the mom-mirror...I reflect the clearest, purest light there is. But if I am looking at others...well, I'm as dim as dust.
As I sat, humbly pondering this illustration, a statement from Mary Baker Eddy's autobiography, Retrospection and Introspection, came to mind:
"Into mortal mind's material obliquity I gazed, and stood abashed.
Blanched was the cheek of pride.
My heart bent low before the omnipotence of Spirit,
and a tint of humility, soft as the heart of a moonbeam,
mantled the earth."
I felt like my understanding of this woman..whose love for the office of "mother" was so central to her words and works...had come into greater focus. She had discovered the peace of bending low before the omnipotent of Sprit with a true mother's humility.
This lunar illustration of mother-love may seem a bit simplistic...but, for me, the simpler, the better.
may you feel the coolness of Her moonbeam fingertips tonight...
Kate Robertson, CS