Tag: children

We are the Woman of Tyre

Published on by jenniferlindnerLeave a comment

Jesus went to the district of Tyre. He entered a house and wanted no one to know about it, but he could not escape notice. Soon a woman whose daughter had an unclean spirit heard about him. She came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth, and she begged him to drive the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied and said to him, “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s scraps.” Then he said to her, “For saying this, you may go. The demon has gone out of your daughter.” When the woman went home, she found the child lying in bed and the demon gone (Mark 7:24-30).

When I read this Gospel early yesterday morning (2/9/23), it immediately resonated with me in a deep way, and I smiled to myself, understanding that God was speaking to my heart. 

Here is the Lord, wanting some time away from the crowds during His full days of ministering to them. In His humanity, we can imagine He is tired; He has been talking and healing for hours. But alas, this is not to be. A woman, a Gentile, no less, has found Jesus, followed Him into the house, and then falls “at His feet.” 

At first, He is noticeably a little irritated (although probably just responding in a clarifying manner) and tries to dismiss her. Jesus makes a comment about children and dogs, which scholars have argued has a variety of meanings, but ultimately suggests that He is at least appearing to be reluctant to help her. The woman, however, understanding His meaning, persists. Her love for her daughter is so great, her willingness to confront the Lord is so courageous and faithful, that Jesus cannot deny her. Even in this brief encounter, she and Jesus have formed a relationship—one of trust and love and faith. Jesus bears witness to the woman’s very real vulnerability, understands and hears her, and because of this frees her daughter from sin. 

How many times have we suffered for our children? How many hours have we worried, sought answers, and committed ourselves to doing anything we can to alleviate their suffering, pain, and struggle? How many late nights and early mornings have we sat in prayer, asking the Lord to deliver them? 

This mother in this story represents every one of us who has found the courage to become righteous warriors for our children—every one of us who is willing to go to the Lord, pleading for His merciful goodness and healing. It is not enough, however, just to ask for God’s help. Like this woman, we must remain determined to seek Him, follow Him, and then speak to Him with hearts fully open to His love. We cannot do this haphazardly. We cannot neglect Jesus for long periods of time and then only go to Him when we’re desperate. Of course, God can attend to us at any time. Even when we’ve been away from Him for a while, we can experience the healing of actual grace. But what this mother shows us is that when we are in relationship with Christ, when we are determined to find Him, be near Him, and ask for His understanding and help, He will always answer us. 

Although in this story Jesus was seeking time away from the crowds, He actually wants us to look for and find Him. In fact it is our very suffering that serves to draw us close to Him. He knows this, which is why, when we call for Him in our pain, He is there to comfort and heal us. 

At a time in our culture when women and mothers are often undermined and questioned, and when we sometimes ask ourselves if we have the courage to help our children through their sufferings, let this woman assure us we are in fact capable of doing just that. We cannot do it alone, however. As we cultivate our relationship with God, as we sit at the foot of the cross and integrate our pain with Jesus’s sacrifice, we are then in a position to best serve, care for, and lead our children. 

Mirroring the humility and faith of this woman and of course, Our Lady, may we continue to seek God’s love and goodness. May we pursue Him with courage and fierceness. And may we know when He answers us that it is our faith, born out of the crucible of suffering, that has saved us.

How Are We Seeing the World?

Published on by jenniferlindner2 Comments

So many parents I know are saying the same thing: my kids are anxious. They have been in school and are still having a hard time. Or they are only just now going back to school after a year of online school, and they are worried, fearful, and just not themselves.

Here is my response to all of us who are walking through this new world with our kids.

This is so upsetting. And yet so understandable. These kids have been holed up, restricted, everything’s been taken away from them. Society has taught them to be afraid and to be suspicious of others and illness.

And then we say, “But now, go back to school. And be happy. Be normal. Even though you need to stay afraid. But you’re fine. No? What’s wrong with you? Why are you so anxious?”

Seriously? With all our knowledge and statistics and information, we are doing a terrible job of the most important thing: teaching our kids that they are worthy, whole, healthy, vibrant, capable, and strong, no matter what. Unconditionally. Always.

And we can’t just tell them. We have to show them, be for them, examples of connection to goodness, kindness, and abundance. We can teach, but even more, we have to be this ourselves, for they have to discover this for themselves in their own hearts and minds. We have taught them to look around and assess how scary the world is. How mean and awful it is. No. Enough. We see the world not how it is but how we are.

If how we are isn’t bright and grateful and constantly in search of the Good, then how will we find it? How will they? It’s time to stop the madness of lack and fear and begin to rebuild. Our children’s wellness, our wellness, depend on it.

On Mothering, part 4

Published on by jenniferlindnerLeave a comment

I have been trying to get to this post for about a day and a half. I now sit at 7:54 PM, tired and uncertain that I have anything interesting or helpful to say. And so, this is the theme of today’s post.

Ironically, I was trying to finish dinner and housework by 7:00 PM to attend a live call about essential oils and self-care. I have to laugh as I write this; the extent to which I am lacking in the self-care department today is testament to how much I need it. And I’m sure I’m not alone.

These days, how many of us are doing even more mothering than usual in all areas of life? Work outside the home has diminished or stopped altogether. Kids are homeschooled. Extra-curricular activities are no more. And yet, I believe most mothers (and fathers) would agree we are busier than ever. As parents, we are now full-time teachers, creative directors, technology managers, kid-friendly household-job creators, spiritual directors, and counselors, in addition to non-stop domestic servants and large and small animal pet caretakers. It’s not that any of these jobs is completely new; it’s that they are now constant with very little down and alone time.

I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m not even complaining. I’m simply stating what is. And as I have presented in my previous posts, our refusal to witness and confront what is, as well as our constant self-emptying without refilling, are not only exhausting, they are also unsustainable. Feeling overwhelmed or tense or constricted in service to everyone else all the time is NOT a requisite for mothering. The socially accepted declarations, “Now that I have a husband and kids, it’s not about me anymore,” and “it’s all about what’s good for them, not me,” are tired and incredibly damaging. Indeed, too often feeling and behaving as though we matter less than anyone else will cause us to turn against ourselves. And worse, we will be unable, truly unable, to hold and reflect the compassion and love our children require from us in order to form their own autonomous, healthy, self-possessed spirits.

So what to do? When we have days like the several in a row I’ve had (which I know you all have also experienced), how can we return to ourselves to refocus and refuel? A friend of mine posed this very question to me today. “How do I pay attention to myself,” she asked, “and manage my own state of mind when my kids are yelling, the dog is barking, and I have to make dinner AND fold laundry?” Yup. That’s about sums it up. Not easy. But not impossible either.

In discerning how to answer, this quotation from modern-day mystic, writer, and Episcopal priest, Cynthia Bourgeault, came to mind. She writes, “When the field of vision has been unified, the inner being comes to rest, and that inner peaceableness flows into the outer world [as] harmony and compassion.” In order to move towards a place of peace and wholeness, then, we must find a way for our “field of vision” to become “unified.” How do we accomplish that?

The answer is simple, but hardly simplistic. We must first learn to practice stillness and centeredness before the contrast and chaos and noise arrive. If we are moving through life often feeling barraged with negative stimuli and experiencing the momentum of much that is unwanted, we usually are unable to slow down sufficiently to turn toward the direction of what is wanted. It’s like making a sharp turn driving at 80 miles per hour. It’s very challenging, quite dangerous, and if you drive a big car, you’re likely to tip over and roll. It won’t end well.

However, if we are practiced at calling on, and sitting with, serenity, we are more likely to recover it in the early stages of being triggered when the chaos visits. This is the purpose of daily meditation, contemplation, and breathing exercises. We practice finding and resting in quiet and stillness in order to recalibrate our energy. We can also experience these moments by paying attention to, and appreciating, when conditions make it easy for us to feel relaxed and focused–when the kids are quieter, when the dog is resting, when there is no dinner to prepare, and when the laundry isn’t screaming to be folded. We learn to be unconditional in our ability to self-regulate, and at the same time, we are able to see and feel and have gratitude for the moments when the conditions reflect back to us our inner stability.

One day last week, I was trying to help all three kids start their school day. They had Zoom meetings, work to do, and tests to take. As I stood in the kitchen, attempting to corral the cats, so to speak, one asked, “Can I have some eggs?” Another declared, “I’d like some tuna.” And another requested a smoothie. I took a breath, and said, “Sure,” frustrated not that they were hungry and wanted to eat, but rather, that our morning start felt like wading through a muddy, rain-soaked steeplechase course at Radnor Hunt in Wellies with no tread. We were slipping and sliding and could not get any traction to get to our destination.

And then it started. Each child, in a different part of the kitchen and family room, started humming a tune. Not the same tune, mind you. Three separate ones at high volumes that were anything but harmonious. The playful rogue cats image returns readily here.

For a moment I thought I might just lose my mind. Cacophonous noise on top of the already pear-shaped work schedule? Seriously? But then… I grabbed on to the tail of that cranky momentum and yanked it back. I gazed at my three children, each singing untethered and with joy, and my spirit joined them. I saw them and the whole scene for what it was–fun, a little wild, and free. This is the good stuff, I thought. This is what we get to experience at home on a Tuesday morning with our kids. In other words, I experienced, as Cynthia expresses, a “unified” “field of vision.” My restless “inner being” came “to rest.” And as a result my “inner peaceableness flow[ed] into…[my]…outer world [as] harmony and compassion.” I experienced clarity and calm and profound love.

The question before us right now isn’t, when will this all end? When will life get back to normal? The question, rather, is, what are we doing right now to be present to life with all its moving parts? To witness the messy living room, the kids’ loud music, the breakfast room table full of half-finished crafts, and even the periodic grumbles and complaints.

Yes, fellow mothers, we have a lot to do everyday. A lot. And yet, it is in this mix of frustration and ease, challenge and joy, that we can find purpose and meaning and clarity. Every experience is an invitation to evolve and consider more deeply who we are and who we want to be. To be a mother is to know, almost daily, the pain and the ecstasy of life. This is the ongoing journey of mothering.