Pure Motherly Love
The Nursery of Heaven by Michael Corsini.
Image used with permission of the artist.
The Blessed Mother’s Pure Love
A couple of months ago, I was attending a women’s retreat in a parish where glossy tiles of neutrals and shades of blue formed a gorgeous mosaic of the Blessed Mother. I kept returning my gaze to it, and I heard in prayer:
“I see you looking at my mother — her maternal love is so different from what you have seen… My mother is tender, approachable, truly sacrificial, and only able to love fully and purely…”
To think that Mary can only love purely, and she is delighted in helping women like me become strong mothers. To think that there is no competitiveness between her and Saint Joseph, or her and other women. To think that the saints are cheering husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, on in our vocations. To think that the Church has not divorced itself many times over as have Protestant denominations and churches. As an adult child of divorce, these truths are healing balms of consolation.
Motherly Love Distorted
My parents divorced when I was very young and remarried their current spouses not long after. My mom raised me Catholic and my dad raised me Protestant. And, in the Protestant community that I was in, people tended to be rather suspicious of Mary, keeping their distance from her out of fear that they would fall into misunderstood Catholic practices. As I reached my teenage years, I adopted suspicion not only toward Mary, but also toward my own mom. Here’s why: parental alienation.
My step-mom entered my life before my parents’ divorce was finalized and through my dad’s enablement, she consistently denigrated my mom throughout my childhood. Eventually, I doubted my own perception of my mom. Was she the safe, loving, and caring woman that I thought she was or not? My experience absolutely said so, but an authority figure in my life was claiming otherwise. Eventually, and though unnaturally, I internalized that my mom was bad—as was her Catholic faith—and I spent my teenage years seeking to prove that I am not bad, no matter how much I inherently reflected my mom or had to suppress my love for her.
Also during my teenage years, I fell through the cracks of the complex family court system and was made to choose to live with one side of my family, one side of me. Gabor Maté, a physician with an interest in child development and trauma, has explained, “People have two needs: Attachment and authenticity. When authenticity threatens attachment, attachment trumps authenticity” (Kolber 16). What I really wanted was a healthy attachment to both of my parents; what I actually experienced was a whole lot of practice at white-knuckling my way through inauthentic living for several traumatic years, having almost no contact with my mom and her family.
Once I reached college, it became clear to me that I was not okay—physical, emotional, and relational manifestations of complex trauma became impossible to ignore. I needed healing. I wanted my mom back in my life. Thankfully, we were both willing to work at restoring our strained relationship—and we did.
Right around this time I met my soon-to-be husband with whom I felt really safe. I had newfound courage to share with my dad and step-mom that I was carrying pain from childhood, in part because of the loyalty bind that I was—and continued—to be in. My apprehensively expressed pain was not well received. Abuse, dripping with references to God, brought me so much despair, confusion, and grief.
A Second Look at Catholicism
Through means such as counseling, books, long walks, and conversations with my husband, my raw wounds began to heal slowly and unlinearly. At this point, I had been part of Protestant churches for nearly a decade and one Sunday morning, I asked my husband why Catholics believe a particular thing. He simply responded, “They don’t.” Years before we met, my husband began studying Catholic theology, meeting with priests, and defending Catholicism to Protestants, as a Protestant. That Sunday marked the beginning of a season in which we came to know of the Catholic Church’s truth, goodness, and beauty in such a way that caused my husband to convert and for me to revert.
We went through RCIA, convalidated our marriage, baptized our baby, and were gifted with getting to know some amazing Catholic families. Daily mass became a source of refuge for me during a season of postpartum anxiety; I looked forward to confession; I could hardly believe how close Jesus had been all this time in the Eucharist; and I was introduced to many beautiful biological and spiritual Catholic mothers.
Motherly Love in the Church
A few weeks ago, I sat next to my confirmation sponsor during Easter Vigil. I shared with her that I had chosen Saint Gianna Molla as my confirmation saint — patron of mothers, unborn babies, and physicians. My sponsor eagerly responded that she had met Saint Gianna’s daughter, the one who she gave her life for, and then pulled a relic of Saint Gianna out of her wallet. “Here, you are meant to have this,” she said. I held the relic throughout the vigil, sensing the communion of saints more than ever. I had chosen Saint Gianna because of my desire to be a devoted wife and mother like she was, willing to make sacrifices for the good of her family and to uphold the dignity of human life. And, given her passion for the health of mothers and babies, I have been asking for her intercession as I am a few months out from childbirth.
In addition to Saint Gianna’s encouraging example, I have recently been drawn to the teachings and example of Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, otherwise known as Edith Stein. I absolutely love gleaning wisdom from her about the unique gifts of women, which Saint John Paul II later called the feminine genius. Receptivity, sensitivity, generosity, and maternity—women, families, the Church, and society flourish when these innate traits are lived out. I feel so much gratitude for these teachings because, as a child of divorce, I more often witnessed domination, competition, hatred, and criticism. As I discover the Church’s precepts, my heart resoundingly agrees with words it had not yet been told. With restful satisfaction, I think, “Yes, this is what marriage and children and families and homes are for.”
I have also met, listened to, or read the stories and wisdom of humble, truthful women such as the Sisters of Life, Sr. Miriam James Heidland, Venerable Cornelia Connelly (whose husband left their marriage for the priesthood only to later reject Catholicisim and withhold their children from her), and the saints who I already mentioned. And they changed my mind about God, opening me up to the truth that I was willed into being despite my parents’ disunity; that I am passionately loved by the Divine Healer, who is in pursuit of my wholeness; that uniting my suffering to Jesus is fruitful; that I can trust God.
And though I am just beginning to get to know the Blessed Mother, I know that she is the perfect example of what it means to be a woman, a wife, a mother, a friend. I wonder if you or someone you love is an adult child of divorce, and if the maternal love of women in the Church, namely the Blessed Mother, have been like lights that shine in the darkness.
Mary, Undoer of Knots, pray for us.
Saint Gianna, pray for us.
Saint Benedicta of the Cross, pray for us.
Sources:
Kolber, Aundi. Strong Like Water. Carol Stream, Tyndale, 2023, pp. 16.
About the Author:
The author has requested anonymity.
Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals
Tell us about how you show love to Mary, or how she shows her love to you.
What are your thoughts on this article? How does it speak to you?