The Mothering Heart

A Column for Mother's Day Weekend

In Good Faith

The Mothering Heart

By MaryAnne Brown
Journal & Press

Mother’s Day arrives with flowers, cards, and shared meals, a day wrapped in gratitude for the women who gave us life, who raised us, who loved us fiercely.

And yet, beneath this tender celebration, there are quieter stories. Perhaps this year, we might widen the circle of our awareness just a bit more.

There is an older tradition in England known as “Mothering Sunday,” a day that began not with cards or flowers, but with quiet returning. People would journey back to their “mother church,” the place that had nurtured their faith and grounded their lives. Over time, that homecoming came to include families, and especially mothers, and grew into a day to reconnect, to give thanks, and to remember where we belong.

Perhaps that earlier meaning still has something to offer us. Not only a day to celebrate, but a day to return, to love, to tend, to honor the deeper spirit of mothering in all its forms.

There are women who mother without ever being called “Mom.” They are the teachers, caregivers, aunts, neighbors, mentors, and friends who show up again and again with patience, encouragement, and love. Their nurturing leaves a lasting imprint, even if it is not formally named or publicly honored.

There are also mothers whose arms ache with absence. Some have lost a child, whether recently or many years ago, and this day can stir a deep and tender grief. While others celebrate, their hearts may quietly remember birthdays that now pass differently, laughter that once filled a room, or dreams that were never fully lived. Love does not end. It changes shape, but it remains, steadfast, enduring, and often unseen.

Rarely do we acknowledge mothers who carry another kind of sorrow, the pain of estrangement. Despite their best efforts, often made under difficult or complicated circumstances, they find themselves distanced from an adult child. The silence can feel heavy. The hopes they once held, for closeness, for shared milestones, for simple connection, may feel broken or out of reach. It is a grief without a clear script. It is often hidden and difficult to name.

For some of us, this day may not be much of a celebration, but more of something to get through. If you are one of these unsung or forgotten mothers, perhaps Mother’s Day can become something else. Rather than dreading this as a difficult day, it may help to enter it with intention. Reframe this by making a simple plan that honors your own heart.

You might begin by acknowledging your story as it is, not as others expect it to be, but as it truly lives within you. There is no need to force joy where there is sorrow, nor to silence what is real. Naming your experience, whether grief, longing, or quiet resilience, is itself an act of courage.

You might choose a small ritual of remembrance or care by lighting a candle, visiting a place that brings peace, writing a letter, whether sent or unsent, preparing a meal that nourishes you, spending time in nature, where life continues its steady rhythm. These gentle acts can become a way of holding both love and loss together.

Perhaps most importantly, there is the quiet invitation to “mother yourself.” Offer yourself the same tenderness you have given to others. Let your inner voice be kind. Rest when you are weary and allow space for both strength and vulnerability. Reach out if you need to or simply sit in stillness and remember that you are not alone. Mothering, at its core, has never been limited to biology or circumstance. It is presence. It is compassion. It is the willingness to care deeply, even when the outcome is uncertain. That capacity still lives within you.

This Mother’s Day, may we broaden our understanding of what it means to mother, and who we honor when we do. Let us remember the unsung, the grieving, the estranged, and the quietly faithful. And let us give thanks for the many expressions of good and faithful mothering that have shaped our lives, those steady presences of care, guidance, and love that helped us grow, heal, and find our way.

Even amid life’s complexities, we can pause in gratitude for the mothers, and the mothering hearts, who have offered us something of goodness, and perhaps even a glimpse of God. Their love, however imperfect, has left its mark. It has carried us, strengthened us, and in some quiet way, still sustains us.

May we carry forward that same quiet, faithful work of love,
in our own lives and in the lives of others.

MaryAnne Brown, RN, BSN, MA is a music minister at St. Joseph’s Church and has a special interest in spirituality and health. She serves on the Retreat Team at Dominican Retreat and Conference Center in Niskayuna and provides grant writing services.

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More tomorrow!

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