Whatshot

2025
2024
June
April
2023
March
2022
2021
2020
March
February
2019
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
2018
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
2017
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2016
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2015
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2014
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2013
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2012
December
November
October
September
August
July

We are all called to mother another.

We are all called to mother another.

Date: 2016-04-29
We mother the world that shows up at our doorstep whether we call it mothering or not.

We mother whether we're married or we've ever borne down in the battle cry of birth or not.

We mother because we're called to it— flinging a life saver to a drowning sister, child, college student, teenager, grandmother with the soft wafer thin skin, or that kid who always shows up at your backdoor the second you've turned off the ignition.

We mother because we can't not.

Because there are friends in the cubicle next to us who have been hurt and need a soft, safe place to come undone.

We mother because we've watched our grandmas make slow, determined soup for the sick.

We mother because the next door neighbour can't change her tyre in the blistering wind and of course we call AA for her and wait and shuffle feet and rub cold hands because she asked for help. Because, of course...

This is what a mother is.

We share ourselves — little bits and pieces of who we are, of our courage, of our deep faith even on the nights we're the most afraid. We bear down and we find ways to bring life to people desperate for air.

We mother and motherhood is its own mission field and no one is disqualified from serving.

Some days wemight not have the faith to believe it.The mothers, with wrinkled bosoms and foreheads and hands wrung right out with wondering if they matter.

We will believe with you and champion you and we will watch a generation raised up because of you.

Mothers, every one.