It’s Fine. Everything’s Fine. (Except I Lit the Fire.)

mother anger

Have you seen the meme of the dog sipping coffee amongst the flames? The one where he says “It’s fine. Everything’s fine”? Most days I am that dog, sitting calmly through the chaos. And yet, I also lit the fire. My anger frightens me. It lies dormant beneath a peaceful exterior, surprising everybody, including me,…

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Reflections of a Pregnant Church

reflection pregnancy church

I can feel myself stretching. There is tension in my skin, and soreness in my breasts as they usher life in. I am enlarging the space inside of myself; This Body made up of so many parts. They were all comfortable, all had their roles; An eye as an eye and an ear as an…

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Forgiveness in Families: Your Turn

forgiving families

This Week on Mothering Spirit Karianna’s essay invites us to consider how we forgive our families—our parents as well as our children. Rakhi’s prayer beckons us into the shadowlands of our own hearts, to ask for God’s mercy.  Resources to keep reflecting A forever-favorite essay from Brian Doyle on forgiveness as a father: A Sin. From the Mothering Spirit…

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Forgiving when you want to burn the world down

forgiving your mother

We live in a world that is based on relationships. Not many of us are called to live the life of a hermit, and that means that we interact with people on a daily basis. Most of those interactions are favorable and bring us nothing but joy and good feelings. Other interactions are more transactional…

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Anger & Forgiveness: Your Turn

anger & forgiveness

This Week on Mothering Spirit Jess’ essay speaks truth about the anger buried within motherhood. Kimberly’s prayer (in both English and Spanish) asks for the grace of forgiveness. Our big news: we’ve just announced our first virtual retreat! Sing A New Song: A Birth Story Retreat will come to you in the comfort of your home on…

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For Days When We Get It All Wrong

prayer for anger

God, there are days when I get this all so wrong. I lose my patience, I yell, I cry. I just don’t have the control I wish I had. Not over them, but over myself. I tell myself, “they’re just kids!” And then I battle with the patience I was never shown. I tell myself,…

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The Rising Fire Within Us

mother anger

It wasn’t only in the dark, when the lights were out and my thoughts had a tendency to expand and disparage themselves. It wasn’t only when the baby needed nursing at 2:00 a.m. and the street lights shone brightly across the street over our neighbor’s silver maple. It wasn’t only when I had to repeat…

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i sing it for you

I sing it for you

I roared at them tonight. And when I say roared, I mean bellowed from the very core of my being – the tired, angry, frustrated, exasperated, unheard and unnoticed depths of my body and soul, from which I was completely and utterly and maddeningly sick of having asked, cajoled, coaxed, pleaded, begged, demanded, and commanded them…

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spiritual practices with newborns: cleaning

Yellow-stained diapers are hanging outside on the deck, bleaching in the sun. Pump parts are drying on the kitchen counter. A rolled heap of wet mattress cover and crib sheet waits on the floor in front of the washing machine. Burp cloths are draped across couches and chairs. (And as I type this one-handed while…

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Courage From The Tomb

the courage to forgive

What took more courage: going into the tomb or coming out? On Good Friday the thought of going into the tomb overwhelms me. Too much blood and betrayal, too much violence and grief. I drag my feet, wanting to stay in Holy Thursday where we break bread and wash each other’s dirt away. Yes, there’s…

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For The Mornings We Yell

For the mornings we wake up determined to make it a better day, and then we don’t— For the times we promise to soak up the sweetness of these fleeting years, and then we wish them away— For the days we want to fill with laughter and song, and then they’re darkened by bad moods and…

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A Mother’s Prayer for Ash Wednesday

parent prayer Ash Wednesday

God of Ash Wednesday, whose hands first gathered dust to create us, whose Spirit breathed new life into brittle bones, whose fingers traced the sand to save a sinner, take the dirt of my life— the tempers lost, the doors slammed, the complaints muttered, the harsh words thrown, the dark doubts seethed— take all these…

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