Celebrating the Art of Mothering
My mother loved tea, and teacups, and scones, and Walker’s shortbread. It was the more delicate side of a woman who worked tirelessly for her family and her job. It was a side I seldom saw, but one that painted itself in brilliant colors on the canvas of the art of mothering.
We are all the product of an earthly mother, a woman chosen out of all women to be our first introduction into the art of mothering. Our experiences of being mothered, for better or for worse, have left color and shape to who we are today. For those of us who have become mothers ourselves, those experiences have blended into the colors and shapes unique to our own art of mothering. For those not called to biological motherhood, your experiences seep into the colors and shapes you bring to the art of mothering in a world that equally benefits from your hues and your molding.
“Mothering” is defined as “kind and protective care.” (Oxford Languages) Over the years, many women have blessed me by their art of mothering ~ my Noni (who lived to be 100 and was sharp as whip), my Godmother and Aunt (who never married and was my go to for common sense advice), my mother-in-law (who welcomed me into her family like her own), and numerous other women along the way who shared their kind, protective care when I needed some color and shape to my own endeavors in the art of mothering. Their art of mothering carries on through my art now, moving forward with light and clarity to that which is truly art.
Despite all the influences around me, there was one area where the colors and shapes remained veiled, shrouded under layers of grays that crept into its own shadows. Here, the art of mothering faltered and failed. It wasn’t until years later that I discovered why. Busy with painting bold colors on vivid landscapes and throwing clay onto spinning wheels, in the myriad of mothering I was called to embrace, the artist had forgotten the canvas and clod within. True mothering can’t begin until one sees the one within that needs its own mothering. It was only when I began to focus on “self-mothering” ~ showing kind, protective care ~ to the artist within that I was free to begin to discern her artistic endeavors. Then, delighting in my own colors and hues and outlines and edges, only then could I start to expand my art of mothering, moving ever forward to my true potential.
My mother’s stolen moments indulging in a cup of tea with a Scotty dog shaped shortbread had seemed so ordinary back then. Now I can see it was her way of painting color and bringing shape to the artist within her. I remember those moments and wish I could share them with her now, to truly relish what it means to paint and mold the mother within, while still engaging in the art of mothering others. Today, you will find me among the teacups, a homemade dark chocolate chip, cherry scone in my hand, celebrating the art of mothering in all its individualistic forms, but especially, my discovery of the art of “self-mothering.” And when you aren’t looking, I’ll be savoring a piece of dark chocolate from my hidden stash (yes, mom, I learned that too.)
(The teacups in the photo are from my mother and mother-in-law’s collections.)
Contemplation:
What are some of the characteristics I see in my own mother’s art of mothering?
What other women have had a significant impact on me through their art of mothering?
If I have been called to the vocation of motherhood, how would I describe my art of mothering? What artistic endeavors would I like to cultivate?
If I am not a biological mother, who in my life reaps the benefits of my art of mothering? Do I see my role in their life as something that fosters “kind, protective care” and helps to paint and shape their life?
What in my life casts a veil and gray shadows into my artistic endeavors?
Have I discovered the art of “self-mothering?” How can I cultivate that within so as to expand the outward expression of my art of mothering?
Resources for postpartum depression:
https://www.apa.org/pi/women/resources/reports/postpartum-depression
https://www.postpartum.net/
