There’s a BBC period drama series that comes on the PBS channel on Sunday nights at 10:00. Each week, I look forward to the unfolding stories, involving nurse-midwives, some of whom are religious sisters, from a fictional Anglican Convent called Nonatus House; they provide nursing care and counseling, to the poor, women (and their families), in London’s East End, of the 1960’s.

I must admit that my fascination with the series titled ‘Call the Midwife’, stems from the fact that it brings back treasured memories of my dear departed mother who was, herself, a nurse-midwife back in the day. She was known throughout the length and breadth of the district of Morant Bay and its environs, where for many years, she was seemingly always on call: counseling, preparing and then delivering the babies of her pregnant patients, in the comfort of their homes.  Even after the big clinic opened up at the hospital, providing a centralized base…affording poor women the opportunity of receiving pre and post natal care, counseling etc. in a government run space, they still had access to “Nurse” who was, in essence, their Mother and for whom professional duties, did not diminish that fact.

Last night’s episode therefore, coming as it did at the close of the day, on which the world paused to celebrate the gift and blessing of Motherhood and Mothering, triggered multi-layered thoughts, beginning with my Nurse-Midwife Mother and ending with the Mother Image of God!  Even after the one hour episode ended, I took my time, bringing to conscious thought, memories of my mother and the village of caring/nurturing women who without fanfare, in the vein of the nursing sisters of Nonatus House, nurtured, taught, encouraged and modeled for me, what caring for others [not your own] is all about. It was under the ministrations of these blessed women’s self-less care, conveyed with nary a thought given to what they would gain in return, that I was schooled: groomed and enabled, to become the woman I am today.

I salute those ‘village mothers’, most of whom were not blood relations, but through whose spiritual veins the love of Jesus flowed, fuelling, their ability to give unselfishly of time, talent and treasure, to enable a young woman’s becoming. But then, as I pondered, I came to the point of acknowledging that in my own life today, I have assumed a similar role in the lives of many…not having ever borne one. I realize that my ability to minister to others, in much the same ways as I was ministered to, is anchored to the Mother love of God. This love not only fortifies but inspires me to reach out to others…with no expectation of reward, save that of knowing I have given/done my best. But what is this Mother love of God…how is it experienced and nurtured?

To be sure, is not a matter of mere feeling, neither is it demonstrated in an abundance of doing. This Mother love of God is experienced when we accept the fact that “regardless of what we have come to believe about God, based on life experience, the truth is that when God thinks of us, love swells in his heart and a smile comes to his face,” That quote from David Benner’s Surrender to Love, challenges me every single day! Every time I am tempted to think little of myself and thereby expect little from myself – I am somehow, miraculously, reminded about whose I am and consequently, who I am.

The Mother love of God, has declared null and void, anything or anyone, my own misguided and misinformed sense of self included, that would seek to move me towards accepting as real, a version of myself that eschews the notion that I am not only beloved of God, but that God uses every opportunity [even when I fall short of his expectations], to draw me within the circle of his embrace. There, I am gently reminded of the infinite possibilities that inhere in a life that is surrendered to that love. Here again, Benner’s words are instructive, for he says “God’s affirmation of goodness is not simply an evaluative statement; it is love bursting forth in an expression of joy and pleasure.”

Long ago, the prophet Isaiah implied that as unthinkable as it may seem a mother’s compassion for the child she bears can in some instances wane, while that of Almighty God is never ending (cf. Isaiah 49:15). That metaphor of the alwaysness and tender beauty of God’s love, like that of and surpassing a mother’s, is captured by William Cowper, in the hymn Hark My Soul it is the Lord. The images evoked therein are not only maternal, they are distinctly female, inspiring a full and open gaze upon God, whose ample bosom and wide open arms are always ready, to cradle, snuggle…envelope in an embrace of pure love, any and all who would accept the invitation, to experience.

So, as we begin another work week, still thinking about mothers and mothering, about birthing, nurturing and supporting, images of selfless, caring, nurse-midwives…of our mothers and mother figures, may come readily to mind and heart; but these also, pale when compared to the Mother love of God; for it is as we come to know and embrace that love, that we begin to know what Benner refers to as the core of our own identity…that which we can truly and with confidence embrace about ourselves…believing its truth in all its divine beauty.

Until next week continue to stay safe as you remain in His grip!

Grace+