I never saw my South Carolina aunt in anything but a dress--shopping, gardening, whatever. She too was a special mother to me, in more ways than one. She provided a home for my sister and me when my mother was hospitalized for a time. Despite terrible losses (husband, only child) early in her married life, she didn't withdraw from life but stayed so interested in other people. When we asked her how she managed to do that, she said, "I just believe in the ministry of encouragement." And so do I.
I rarely use the word "awesome," but this feels like an appropriate place to do so! I'd love to hear more about your program as it gets under way. So glad I shared the story of my aunt and her guiding philosophy of life. She was the kind of person who--upon entering a room of other people--never had the attitude "here I am"; it was always "there you are!"
I, too, am enamored of that phrase; and am inspired by Dr Heather’s embrace of it. “Ministry of Encouragement” seems to evoke an arms-wide-open acceptance and approval that could not fail to uplift the dispirited and spur them on to achievements they might once have thought beyond their reach. Thank you Ann Weller!
Perhaps it’s a theme that projects the power to bring people into a closer bond with one another. Could it establish new connections between individuals in a neighborhood, community, or village?
Considering our current national standoff, it would seem prudent to plan for the best but prepare for the worst. We need to strengthen our connections in case our circumstances become dire. Linking up with others will only make our neighborhoods more resilient in any case.
I am not a fan of our political structures, as they tend to be alienating and divisive. But I well understand the intense focus of others on this particular arena since our very lives, individually as well as collectively, are inescapably yoked to this system of governance.
But I do feel that the pugnacious, “squared ring” of politics needs to be walled off from other aspects of community development and “encouragement”. Supporting our neighbors through troubling times, mentoring and tutoring our children and youth, visiting the sick, community clean-ups, and other constructive and unifying efforts do not need the corrosive, alienating activities associated with vying for votes and power to intrude.
Anyway, this is just my way of saying—at length—that I really like and support the efforts of the “Ministry of Encouragement.”
Thank you; I appreciate your post. In addition to encouraging and supporting one another in individual and even community-wide ways, I think we also need to work to change systems that create some of the difficulties in the first place. Not either-or, but both.
I couldn’t agree more, Ann. But I do believe we MUST NOT allow the venom, the pathogen, that characterizes present-day, dog-eat-dog “politics” to despoil the efforts of real people—citizens—to pull themselves and others up above the deadly smog that IS the polity under which we now suffer.
You're welcome. After my aunt died, my sister and I established a fund we called The Ministry of Encouragement to provide some modest funds to people who needed to know someone cared about them but who would never think to ask or expect it. And we asked them to consider--when their circumstances improved--passing along some kind of encouragement to someone else.
Not at the moment, but I'm thinking about reinstating it. Encouragement -- in many things -- is more needed now than ever. (Even when what she writes about is discouraging or daunting, I'm encouraged by what I gain from Dr. Richardson's daily articles.)
Every mother being honored today is part of that ministry. I believe that most women are born with that natural inclination....to encourage others. It’s what makes women such natural leaders.
Interesting turn of phrase, "ministry of encouragement". In my role as a critical incident peer supporter, I have adopted the term "ministry of presence" for people going through the aftermath of a traumatic event. I love "ministry of encouragement!"
I am one of those mothers who mother without becoming a biological mother. Thank you for acknowledging us, and for sharing this wonderful portrait of one of yours.
Dear HCR, today you bequeathed to us all the gifts of motherhood on levels that I will never forget. In March, I lost my last two mothers within 5 days of each other -- a mere month after having said my final farewells to my beloved brother and only sibling. These last months of grief have been beyond belief.
During my childhood, many moons ago, my mother had a group of friends who met on Wednesdays, to play cards. They called themselves the Canasta girls. They were a band of merry women who formed a delightful sisterhood, and eventually, motherhood for all their little children. We were all enriched by these amazing mothers, sisters, and friends. For fifteen magical years, the youngsters all became the proud sons and daughters of the Canasta Girls.
Gitty and Carol were treasured Canasta girls. I loved each of them in such distinct ways, yet both provided me with love, shelter, and eternal guidance which have become rooted in my very being until the day that I cease to be. Gitty and Carol were my mothers and each was my 'anam cara.'
In his book, *Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom*, John O'Donahue writes:
"In the Celtic tradition, there is a beautiful understanding of love and friendship. One of the fascinating ideas here is the idea of soul-love; the old Gaelic term for this is anam cara. Anam is the Gaelic word for soul and cara is the word for friend. So anam cara in the Celtic world was the “soul friend.” In the early Celtic church, a person who acted as a teacher, companion, or spiritual guide was called an anam cara. It originally referred to someone to whom you confessed, revealing the hidden intimacies of your life. With the anam cara you could share your inner-most self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention, morality, and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the 'friend of your soul.' The Celtic understanding did not set limitations of space or time on the soul. There is no cage for the soul. The soul is a divine light that flows into you and into your Other. This art of belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship."
And so, on this Mother's Day, I remember with profound love, gratitude and soul friendship: Gitty, Carol, Muggy, Annette, Aileen, Belén, and all the beautiful Canasta girls, with very special reverence and hallowed memories.
Rowshan, you are always my favorite commenter and I wish to express my deepest sympathy to you for the passing of your brother and two mothers. Heather's Letter for today plus your comment are open windows letting in bright light!
Rowshan i’m sorry for your losses and your grief. Thank you for reminding me of how much I have loved John O’Donahue and the beautiful concept of Anam cara.
Rowshan, Your generosity on this day and everyday lights up your comments. Reading this one, startled me. There was not a hint of sorrow from you here in the past two months. Perhaps, I missed that. My deepest condolences for the loss of your soul friends. Again, you gifted us with John O'Donahue's writing from 'Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Widsom'. Thank you for sharing your heart with us.
Rowshan, I am terribly sorry you have had to suffer so much loss in this terrible year. Each departure leaves an enormous hole in the fabric of our lives, and it seems there is not enough time left in life to repair the damage, try as we might to patch things up. You have my sympathy and my thanks for introducing me to the Celtic words "anam cara". Soul friends are hard to find and, I think, much harder to lose. All the best to you.
David, my thanks go to you for recognizing those deep wells of suffering. I'm so glad that you appreciate the term "anam Cara," it has become extremely meaningful to me.
I think that we have more soul friends than we realize—if we get attuned we can sense the presence of the souls of the people we have lost. I think they hover.
Rowshan...you are such a storyteller. I love your prose. Thank you for sharing a pic from your life. I feel the spirit of the Canasta girls. A lot of that on this stream. A beautiful day to you!
My deepest thanks for feeling their spirit, Christine. The Canasta Girls poured out so much love and laughter into my life! And a beautiful day to you!♥️
Rowshan, I can't believe the breadth of loss you have endured in such a short span of time. Life often asks a mountain of sturdiness from us. May the memories, as they say, sustain and enrich your days. Thank you for enriching my morning reminding us of anam cara, a deeply spiritual recognition. I, too, have been blessed with several profoundly kind and accepting relationships that served to warm the heart in times that, otherwise, might have felt like the "deep winter of the soul". Without a doubt, generosity of spirit saves us from isolation. I remain forever grateful to them all. May the spirit of anam caras fill your days.
Love this Rowshan! My mother, my aunts Mary and Pat, my Nonnie and my cousin Mary Ellen, all agree from their perch in "The Great Irish Tea Party in the Sky." Happy Mothers Day!
Thank you, MaryPat! I do hope that the Canasta Girls and your women "Anam Cara" will have a lovely cup of tea together in celebration of mothering and motherhood!
Rowshan, my deepest sympathy to you for your loss, and thank you for reminding me about this book. Years ago, I read Anam Cara with a group of women. We called ourselves spirit girls. Some have passed, but I’m still in touch with the others who provide love, kindness, and joy. Your post made me think about them again this morning, and about the other women who were so important to me. My mother, Mama Book, PSS, Kathy, Geri, the two Leslie’s, Patti, Wanda, Cozetta, Ellen, Jane, Miss Guess, so many teachers and professors, co-workers, and women who served in public office - teaching me about courage and conviction. HCR for her daily letters giving me understanding and insight. Finally, Lisa and Kelly who have both done such a lovely job of being mothers to my beloved grandchildren. Thank you for helping me remember all of them this morning. My heart is full.
Oh, Judy -- my thanks go to you for your expression of sympathy and for remembering the spirit girls and other wonderful women in your life. To hear that your heart is full is profoundly comforting. Thank you.
I am so very sorry for the losses in your life. I well know the grief of losing a brother, having lost mine one year ago this month. Thank you for sharing the "anam cara" excerpt as well as the story of those delightful Canasta girls. I grew up with parents who played Canasta with their best friends (never learned it myself), and I can relate to your experience!
My grandmother and her daughter Helen and an old friend called Tootsie used to stay up very late playing canasta. I would hear them when I occasionally spent the night there. They were very content. I never learned the game or payed cards at all but I have fond memories of their simple pleasure.
Liz, it is a lovely, gentle game -- not difficult to learn and so unlike bridge in its intensity. That said, I have forgotten how to play. 😉 The old memory is not as good as it used to be.
Rowshan, that is a lot of loss in such a short time. Thank you for the introduction to Anam Cara. It is a network that surpasses family. Thank you for your presence here.
It is I who am grateful for this substack, for the phenomenal HCR and her ability to amass the most extraordinary people in one place. We discuss, interact, debate, agree, and disagree, but always with heart and compassion -- and we learn from one another. It is I who must declare my gratitude for all of you.
Rowshan, I'm so sorry you have suffered so much loss this year, I wish I could help ease the pain. You brought to life the lives of those very special women who nurtured and inspired you. You've been deeply blessed with the gift of love from so many wonderful women.
A million thanks, Daria! The blessings of life are rich and plentiful! This place of interaction, exchange, and camaraderie with people such as yourself is one of those extraordinary blessings.
What a gift you have shared with us! I am so sorry about your pain and loss during this time. We are never never ready to lose them , but I believe their spirit is never lost to us. I am entranced with the concept of anam cara. They have come in to my life, but I did not know how to describe them. I wish you much love and healing as you go forward.
Thank you, Cathy! Losses can be so difficult, but it is also comforting to read your compassionate thoughts and healing wishes. Thank you so very much for caring!
Thank you Professor Richardson - such a loving and evocative and important story. Thanks for sharing it and for reminding us of all the vital mothers who shape our lives.
My Grandmother Ruth was a mother to me and to many, many others. She lived a long life, just months shy of 100. I wrote this about her.
The screen door clapped softly shut as I walked into the yard
Passed that rock that looked like a mountain when I was a boy
And my grandmother stood there with that screen door between her and the world
And watched me go
And could barely raise her hand goodbye
Do you remember the sound of a screen door shutting
The sound of days beginning and ending
Of kids running out into the yard
Of sons leaving for war for the last time maybe
Of daughters leaving with husbands for the first time maybe
Of husbands going to the corner for a drink for the last time maybe
Of mothers watching their families grow in the shadows of that door frame
Of seeing the world through that hazy screen with the kitchen behind them
Of wishing we wouldn’t leave
Of trying not to remember too well
Of holding back tears until we had cleared the yard
And pausing there a moment
A moment to themselves
A moment we might never know inside that place
That all of us walked through without thinking
Of who we were leaving or what we were headed out to do
Beautiful! This poem conjures up so many feelings. I especially feel my great grandmother’s love and concern for her son Billy and his “friend” Peter every time the door clapped behind them. When my daughter came out as an 18 year old, I sought my mother’s wisdom on how best to let the rest of the family know (at my daughter’s request). “Lisa, just let them see that your love, respect, and support of Lindsey hasn’t changed one bit based on who she loves. It doesn’t change a thing for your father and me either just like it didn’t for my grandmother and Uncle Billy and Peter.” Mothers acknowledging that Love is Love. Powerful lesson. 🏳️🌈❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
As a gay kid who had a mom like you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. One of my Aunties (Mom's best friend Shirley) gave my mom an incredible support. When she had returned from a "meeting with the third grade teachers" about me wearing pants to school (in 1966; no dress code, and mom was saved by a custodian that heard this and went and got the principal who told the three teachers to leave both mom and me alone). One of the things the teachers threw at her was "what if she grows up to be a lesbian?" Shirley's response was "So what? There are so many worse things she could be."
I love this story, lead by example and with love! When my brother came out in the 80s, my parents wanted to find a way to tell their close friends. They had a dinner party and Mom wrote a poem she recited. This is fitting for today, to remember her poem and her delivery, which showcased things I loved very much about her, the poem rhymed, was silly and joyful, and she delivered it with a confident twinkle in her eye. Thank you for sharing and evoking that memory.
Thank you! It's a lovely poem. My mother's mother in Pine Mountain, Georgia, had a clapping screen door that I heard all during my reading of it (and the sound of the spring stretching out, too), and I can see her standing behind it with her arm raised to wave goodbye. I can smell the pines and hear the jays. Her name was Robbie Lee Jackson.
R. Dooley, ....I am profoundly moved by something which I consider to be far more than a poem. I AM at that clapping door, watching the comings and goings and all the events of life big and small unfolding in my mind. You have given me a soft, whispering moment of rememberance that reaches deep into my heart. Many thanks for sharing such beautiful words and sentiments. God bless you and your Grandmother Ruth.
Thank you R Dooley. I remember my Grandma Edith at the screen door just like this. It evokes all the summer smells on our visits to the farm in Ohio which were just outside the screen door. Especially the sweet hay and the fruit trees.
Beautifully written. I too remember the screen door sound - before AC. This brought back fond memories. At a local fair years ago we found & bought a small hand crafted screen door as a wall decoration. 🌞
Dr. Richardson, I have been reading and occasionally responding to your Letter for the past 6 months or so. I never expected to find such excellent writing and thinking out in Internet Land, but life is full of surprises and I am deeply grateful to you.
Unsurprisingly, Allison -- my 95 year old stepmother -- who "stepped" into my life when my father remarried a year after my mother died in 1964, is the one who suggested Letter from an American to me. Despite my often rude resistance to her during my rebellious teenage years, she managed to mother me (and her 3 children from her first marriage) while having a pretty luminous career at USAID and in the foreign service, even luring me to Kenya in the summer of '81 where I first met my Italian wife and discovered there was more to the world than just the USA. This was about 15 years after she convinced me to attend a summer camp near Carson City NV -- too far from my friends in DC, or so I thought -- that changed my life in many ways, all of them positive and permanent.
I've had a couple of other mothers along the way, but Allison is the champ and is still sharp as a tack, running her retirement community's library and complaining that "these old ladies just can't figure out data entry" as she tries to update the computerized book check-out system.
I had a creative writing teacher years ago who once advised: "Why waste a good cliché when your own words can work just as well?" That said, I will add this to my last comment: Better late than never!
Absolutely, David. Behind every successful married man, is a proud wife and a mother snickering over what was always obvious to her, because she knew what she was doing all of your life growing up.
Heather, as painful as your missives are, reflecting the reality of our poorly educated populace, who seem incapable of critical thinking, and immoral leaders (not amoral because there is a distinction), this is the first time you have brought me to tears. Really good tears. Thank you for being the awesome being that you are. Carry on....
You know and write wondrously of mother love. It is, I think, the granite on which your love for democracy stands. You show it in your daily posts and it is encouraging us to be strong, vigilant, and active. Thank you, thank you.
I am so glad you wrote this chapter from your life <3 I recall one of your weekday talks and you mentioned 'the washing machine' as the most important historical event by your neighbor. And I meant to email you to please tell us more!! I am not very patient, lol, but thank you!!
It brought memories of my Grandmother's washing machine, a huge cylindrical tub on wheels with the clothing wringer on top, placed on the front cement porch, with the clothesline nearby on their retired 100 acre farm in New Canaan, Nova Scotia. My Grandmother was 96 when she passed and I just welcomed my 94 year old Mother into my home on Hospice Respite care. Happy Mother's Day!!
Thank you for your own lovely memories of your Grandmother and her trusty washing machine...And a very special Mother’s Day Blessing for you and your Mother as you celebrate this day together.
My father “mothered” my sister and me. Supporting and nurturing, he was our head cheerleader. My mother was loving, but psychotic. My dad stepped in and was/is our role model for our relationships with our children and grandchildren today. We have many mothers among us in different forms.
I was in a similar family situation. My mom was present but she was a bipolar, alcoholic, drug addict. She died when I was 13 because of the alcohol and drugs. My father got custody of my brother and me when I was 11. He was both father and mother to us. I didn't realize it at the time but he was the most honorable person I ever met. He loved us and wanted us to become good people. I learned so much from his example. I learned to be caring and put other peoples' needs above mine. I learned to be honest. I learned to speak up for myself. I can't imagine where I would be if he had not raised me. I didn't realize that he had shown me all of these things until much later in life. He died when I was 24 years old. I wish I could talk to him now and let him know how I feel about him and what I now understand.
He sounds like he was an incredible man. Nothing wrong with talking to him even now, Wendy. The people we’ve loved and who have loved us are never really gone.
Thank you for sharing this recognition and respect for all your father did. It is beautiful. I was blessed with having my mom in my life for 50 yrs, and still wish I could talk with her now. She died 5 yrs ago. As Deborah suggested, they are still with us.
An amazing story, Wendy. Your dad sounds like a gem, and you learned some valuable lessons from him. I'm sorry you lost him at 24. That was way too soon.
This is by far the best writing on Mother’s Day I have ever read. This year, especially, I have wished for far fewer posts glorifying motherhood and more respecting the pain of women who have lost children through death or miscarriages. And as one who has had several “other mothers” to whip me into shape, I devoured this post. Thank you, Heather Cox Richardson.
Loved this story. I am one of those women like her who becomes the second, third or fourth mother. And I see the role as important as any others I have. 💗
i never had children but am a fabulous aunt to many. i did bring 12.5 PhDs and 17.5 Master’s thesis students into the world. mothering these brilliant academics has been my most satisfying joy in the academy. HMD
I am in that same boat. So far, we've had two nieces live with us while going to college, and I am just waiting for my nephew to get off his butt and apply to the graduate program here in Eugene so we can get him, too.
Thank you for this great memory. I too had many mothers, most of them teachers. My mother died when I was a few days short of 18, so I have been without her for a very long time. I have no children, but considered many of the students where I taught, my kids. Many of them are now mothers (and fathers) themselves and I have enjoyed watching them with their children. In the hopes that we all have people who are special to us, both our actual family and those who we cherish outside our family.
There is a book titled "Motherless Daughters" published in the 70's (I think). My Mom was interviewed for that, as she lost her mother just shy of age 20 (from tuberculosis). In spite of being a life-long smoker and survivor of both breast and uterine cancer, she lived until the age of 82.
This has bee a tough week. My late mother's birthday was the 3rd, then, of course Mother's Day and yesterday, May 8 is my lost brother's birthday. Just a week full of sad. I lost my mother in 2016 after Trump was elected. There was no fixing her. She had end stage COPD. We said our good bye's in the hospital--well, actually said "Til we meet again." She was going home with hospice in 2 days and my brother (whom she lived with) was getting the house ready for the parade of home care deliveries and admission nurses. She insisted they bring her home a day early. He called me the morning after her return to tell me she was gone. He was so choked up and upset that he did not even get one day with her alone. One year later, my brother was found dead in his bedroom by my nephew who had come to meet him to go to work. He overdosed on heroin that had fentanyl in it. He never shared this struggle with me. Since he lived in another state, I did not see him often and since he had his own contracting business in a busy city, he was always "on a job." I miss the hell out of both of them and I think I most resent being deprived of my little brother who should still be here loving being a grandpa to the most adorable toddler girl that he never got to meet. Both dead from substance abuse (my mother could never quit cigarette smoking) ... I guess I could add my Dad who died of lung cancer in 2005 to that list but this is May and it is my brother and my mother who I am most missing this moment. I think my brother really missed Mom.
Thank you for telling us this very sad personal story. What a lot of loss at once! Your mourning is a reflection of the affection your family shared. This is my first mother's day without my mother. She died in October.My children are visiting, and it's my mother they talk about- she was an important figure in all our lives. I'm grateful we had the time with her that we had, though she was hard to bear, for me, and I was angry with her a lot. A real matriarch. I'm very moved by HCR's post. And yours.
I am sorry or your loss. My mother, as she aged and her disability increased d/t her COPD and smoking--her world got a lot smaller. It seemed that she found every rationale to keep smoking. Her personality also changed quite a bit --she became more demanding and picky and would go on long jags of complaining about small details. In retrospect, I know some of it was the prednisone and a lot of it was an emotional response to losing control and autonomy but she was hard to take sometimes.
Thanks for sharing this story. Your brother really did miss your Mom, and he knew she needed to come home. I'm sorry for that this loss is so intertwined. I lost my Mom to COPD as well. It hurts.
I feel like we ended getting more years out of her than we had the right to expect with her illness. I remember the doctor telling us we had maybe a year but instead we had six more. So I feel grateful for that. It hurts not having her here to talk to anymore. I also had some anger towards her for not being resolute enough to kick the smoking habit and had to resolve those feelings.
Last year during the pandemic I received an email from a man in Canada claiming to be a 3rd cousin of mine. He has been interested in genealogy for a long time but because of the pandemic had a lot more time to spend on it and that is how he found me. We have become great friends and he has done a very long chart on my family, both on my father’s side (the side that we are related on) and generously also on my mother’s side.
I shared this newsletter with him and this evening he read this story. I received a text from him telling me that your Mrs. A is my 7th cousin twice removed! He sent me the chart going all the way back to 1641. As a kid growing up in Southern California we had always heard stories about a bandit on my great grandfather’s side whose nick name was “Bad Man Bascom”. I had told my newly found cousin about him and that is how he knew to run the chart and see if I was related to Sally. Small world.
I never saw my South Carolina aunt in anything but a dress--shopping, gardening, whatever. She too was a special mother to me, in more ways than one. She provided a home for my sister and me when my mother was hospitalized for a time. Despite terrible losses (husband, only child) early in her married life, she didn't withdraw from life but stayed so interested in other people. When we asked her how she managed to do that, she said, "I just believe in the ministry of encouragement." And so do I.
I love this. Love it. We are starting a program in my town, and I am 100% going to put in "the ministry of encouragement" for the title. :)
I rarely use the word "awesome," but this feels like an appropriate place to do so! I'd love to hear more about your program as it gets under way. So glad I shared the story of my aunt and her guiding philosophy of life. She was the kind of person who--upon entering a room of other people--never had the attitude "here I am"; it was always "there you are!"
I, too, am enamored of that phrase; and am inspired by Dr Heather’s embrace of it. “Ministry of Encouragement” seems to evoke an arms-wide-open acceptance and approval that could not fail to uplift the dispirited and spur them on to achievements they might once have thought beyond their reach. Thank you Ann Weller!
Perhaps it’s a theme that projects the power to bring people into a closer bond with one another. Could it establish new connections between individuals in a neighborhood, community, or village?
Considering our current national standoff, it would seem prudent to plan for the best but prepare for the worst. We need to strengthen our connections in case our circumstances become dire. Linking up with others will only make our neighborhoods more resilient in any case.
I am not a fan of our political structures, as they tend to be alienating and divisive. But I well understand the intense focus of others on this particular arena since our very lives, individually as well as collectively, are inescapably yoked to this system of governance.
But I do feel that the pugnacious, “squared ring” of politics needs to be walled off from other aspects of community development and “encouragement”. Supporting our neighbors through troubling times, mentoring and tutoring our children and youth, visiting the sick, community clean-ups, and other constructive and unifying efforts do not need the corrosive, alienating activities associated with vying for votes and power to intrude.
Anyway, this is just my way of saying—at length—that I really like and support the efforts of the “Ministry of Encouragement.”
Thank you; I appreciate your post. In addition to encouraging and supporting one another in individual and even community-wide ways, I think we also need to work to change systems that create some of the difficulties in the first place. Not either-or, but both.
I couldn’t agree more, Ann. But I do believe we MUST NOT allow the venom, the pathogen, that characterizes present-day, dog-eat-dog “politics” to despoil the efforts of real people—citizens—to pull themselves and others up above the deadly smog that IS the polity under which we now suffer.
Love your phrase “The ministry of encouragement”.... Thank you for sharing!!
You're welcome. After my aunt died, my sister and I established a fund we called The Ministry of Encouragement to provide some modest funds to people who needed to know someone cared about them but who would never think to ask or expect it. And we asked them to consider--when their circumstances improved--passing along some kind of encouragement to someone else.
What a beautiful phrase. Your fund was a wonderful way to keep your aunt’s philosophy alive. It’s worthy of replicating.
What a wonderful legacy. Does the Ministry of Encouragement still exist?
Not at the moment, but I'm thinking about reinstating it. Encouragement -- in many things -- is more needed now than ever. (Even when what she writes about is discouraging or daunting, I'm encouraged by what I gain from Dr. Richardson's daily articles.)
Every mother being honored today is part of that ministry. I believe that most women are born with that natural inclination....to encourage others. It’s what makes women such natural leaders.
Indeed. Same with me.
What a wonderful idea. Really a way to make a difference.
Fabulous!
The ministry of encouragement!! How absolutely marvelous! ❤️
Interesting turn of phrase, "ministry of encouragement". In my role as a critical incident peer supporter, I have adopted the term "ministry of presence" for people going through the aftermath of a traumatic event. I love "ministry of encouragement!"
And both of them beat anything in Orwell's 1984!
I love the phrase ministry of encouragement too!
Me too—it sounds like a special division of angels.
What a perfect saying to abide by.
May I use that phrase in my classroom, Ann? What a wonderful phrase!
Of course! I would be delighted to know that it's being passed on to younger beings. It's thoughtful of you to ask.
Of course. Thank you!
I believe that, may I adopt it?
Yes, you may.
Thank you!!!
"The ministry of encouragement", love that and will try to remember it!
I am one of those mothers who mother without becoming a biological mother. Thank you for acknowledging us, and for sharing this wonderful portrait of one of yours.
Perfectly put!
Dear HCR, today you bequeathed to us all the gifts of motherhood on levels that I will never forget. In March, I lost my last two mothers within 5 days of each other -- a mere month after having said my final farewells to my beloved brother and only sibling. These last months of grief have been beyond belief.
During my childhood, many moons ago, my mother had a group of friends who met on Wednesdays, to play cards. They called themselves the Canasta girls. They were a band of merry women who formed a delightful sisterhood, and eventually, motherhood for all their little children. We were all enriched by these amazing mothers, sisters, and friends. For fifteen magical years, the youngsters all became the proud sons and daughters of the Canasta Girls.
Gitty and Carol were treasured Canasta girls. I loved each of them in such distinct ways, yet both provided me with love, shelter, and eternal guidance which have become rooted in my very being until the day that I cease to be. Gitty and Carol were my mothers and each was my 'anam cara.'
In his book, *Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom*, John O'Donahue writes:
"In the Celtic tradition, there is a beautiful understanding of love and friendship. One of the fascinating ideas here is the idea of soul-love; the old Gaelic term for this is anam cara. Anam is the Gaelic word for soul and cara is the word for friend. So anam cara in the Celtic world was the “soul friend.” In the early Celtic church, a person who acted as a teacher, companion, or spiritual guide was called an anam cara. It originally referred to someone to whom you confessed, revealing the hidden intimacies of your life. With the anam cara you could share your inner-most self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention, morality, and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the 'friend of your soul.' The Celtic understanding did not set limitations of space or time on the soul. There is no cage for the soul. The soul is a divine light that flows into you and into your Other. This art of belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship."
And so, on this Mother's Day, I remember with profound love, gratitude and soul friendship: Gitty, Carol, Muggy, Annette, Aileen, Belén, and all the beautiful Canasta girls, with very special reverence and hallowed memories.
Rowshan, you are always my favorite commenter and I wish to express my deepest sympathy to you for the passing of your brother and two mothers. Heather's Letter for today plus your comment are open windows letting in bright light!
Oh, my goodness, Carla, how moving and kind of you! I do so appreciate your thoughtful expression of sympathy. Thank you!
Rowshan i’m sorry for your losses and your grief. Thank you for reminding me of how much I have loved John O’Donahue and the beautiful concept of Anam cara.
Oh, Liz! A duplicate "anam cara" and John O'Donahue aficionado! How wonderful to know that! Thank you for your kind thoughts.
Thank you Rowshan— we have a lovely sunny morning here and I wish you the same!
The sun is making a great effort here, but I think the clouds nay win the day! Not withstanding, I thank you, Liz, for your sunny wishes
Rowshan, Your generosity on this day and everyday lights up your comments. Reading this one, startled me. There was not a hint of sorrow from you here in the past two months. Perhaps, I missed that. My deepest condolences for the loss of your soul friends. Again, you gifted us with John O'Donahue's writing from 'Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Widsom'. Thank you for sharing your heart with us.
How wonderfully kind of you, Fern! I really appreciate your words of sympathy -- I am so moved by your compassionate heart!♥️♥️♥️♥️
Rowshan, I am terribly sorry you have had to suffer so much loss in this terrible year. Each departure leaves an enormous hole in the fabric of our lives, and it seems there is not enough time left in life to repair the damage, try as we might to patch things up. You have my sympathy and my thanks for introducing me to the Celtic words "anam cara". Soul friends are hard to find and, I think, much harder to lose. All the best to you.
David, my thanks go to you for recognizing those deep wells of suffering. I'm so glad that you appreciate the term "anam Cara," it has become extremely meaningful to me.
I think that we have more soul friends than we realize—if we get attuned we can sense the presence of the souls of the people we have lost. I think they hover.
Rowshan...you are such a storyteller. I love your prose. Thank you for sharing a pic from your life. I feel the spirit of the Canasta girls. A lot of that on this stream. A beautiful day to you!
My deepest thanks for feeling their spirit, Christine. The Canasta Girls poured out so much love and laughter into my life! And a beautiful day to you!♥️
That is lovely Rowshan. You have the heart and soul of a poet!
Oh, my! Thank you so much, David!
What David said!
Thank you, MaryPat❣️
❤️ ❤️ ❤️!
Dear Rowshan. Thank you for that - and my deepest condolences. I too know that ache.
Thank you so much, Jean-Pierre. It is a life-changing ache, isn't it?♥️
Rowshan, I can't believe the breadth of loss you have endured in such a short span of time. Life often asks a mountain of sturdiness from us. May the memories, as they say, sustain and enrich your days. Thank you for enriching my morning reminding us of anam cara, a deeply spiritual recognition. I, too, have been blessed with several profoundly kind and accepting relationships that served to warm the heart in times that, otherwise, might have felt like the "deep winter of the soul". Without a doubt, generosity of spirit saves us from isolation. I remain forever grateful to them all. May the spirit of anam caras fill your days.
Thank you so much, K! Your compassion and understanding are so comforting ❣️
Love this Rowshan! My mother, my aunts Mary and Pat, my Nonnie and my cousin Mary Ellen, all agree from their perch in "The Great Irish Tea Party in the Sky." Happy Mothers Day!
Thank you, MaryPat! I do hope that the Canasta Girls and your women "Anam Cara" will have a lovely cup of tea together in celebration of mothering and motherhood!
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Rowshan, my deepest sympathy to you for your loss, and thank you for reminding me about this book. Years ago, I read Anam Cara with a group of women. We called ourselves spirit girls. Some have passed, but I’m still in touch with the others who provide love, kindness, and joy. Your post made me think about them again this morning, and about the other women who were so important to me. My mother, Mama Book, PSS, Kathy, Geri, the two Leslie’s, Patti, Wanda, Cozetta, Ellen, Jane, Miss Guess, so many teachers and professors, co-workers, and women who served in public office - teaching me about courage and conviction. HCR for her daily letters giving me understanding and insight. Finally, Lisa and Kelly who have both done such a lovely job of being mothers to my beloved grandchildren. Thank you for helping me remember all of them this morning. My heart is full.
Oh, Judy -- my thanks go to you for your expression of sympathy and for remembering the spirit girls and other wonderful women in your life. To hear that your heart is full is profoundly comforting. Thank you.
I am so very sorry for the losses in your life. I well know the grief of losing a brother, having lost mine one year ago this month. Thank you for sharing the "anam cara" excerpt as well as the story of those delightful Canasta girls. I grew up with parents who played Canasta with their best friends (never learned it myself), and I can relate to your experience!
Ellen, my thanks for your empathetic response with your brother and Canasta playing parents. These connections mean so much❣️
My grandmother and her daughter Helen and an old friend called Tootsie used to stay up very late playing canasta. I would hear them when I occasionally spent the night there. They were very content. I never learned the game or payed cards at all but I have fond memories of their simple pleasure.
Liz, it is a lovely, gentle game -- not difficult to learn and so unlike bridge in its intensity. That said, I have forgotten how to play. 😉 The old memory is not as good as it used to be.
My memory is different now too as I age but I’m pretty comfortable with it— I wouldn’t be happy in a high powered jobbbut I love my retirement.
Rowshan, that is a lot of loss in such a short time. Thank you for the introduction to Anam Cara. It is a network that surpasses family. Thank you for your presence here.
It is I who am grateful for this substack, for the phenomenal HCR and her ability to amass the most extraordinary people in one place. We discuss, interact, debate, agree, and disagree, but always with heart and compassion -- and we learn from one another. It is I who must declare my gratitude for all of you.
How dear and loving. This is indeed a “thin place” filled with anam caras.
Thank you, Carey. Your observation is spot on!♥️
❤️
Rowshan, I'm so sorry you have suffered so much loss this year, I wish I could help ease the pain. You brought to life the lives of those very special women who nurtured and inspired you. You've been deeply blessed with the gift of love from so many wonderful women.
A million thanks, Daria! The blessings of life are rich and plentiful! This place of interaction, exchange, and camaraderie with people such as yourself is one of those extraordinary blessings.
What a gift you have shared with us! I am so sorry about your pain and loss during this time. We are never never ready to lose them , but I believe their spirit is never lost to us. I am entranced with the concept of anam cara. They have come in to my life, but I did not know how to describe them. I wish you much love and healing as you go forward.
Thank you, Cathy! Losses can be so difficult, but it is also comforting to read your compassionate thoughts and healing wishes. Thank you so very much for caring!
Thank you Professor Richardson - such a loving and evocative and important story. Thanks for sharing it and for reminding us of all the vital mothers who shape our lives.
My Grandmother Ruth was a mother to me and to many, many others. She lived a long life, just months shy of 100. I wrote this about her.
The screen door clapped softly shut as I walked into the yard
Passed that rock that looked like a mountain when I was a boy
And my grandmother stood there with that screen door between her and the world
And watched me go
And could barely raise her hand goodbye
Do you remember the sound of a screen door shutting
The sound of days beginning and ending
Of kids running out into the yard
Of sons leaving for war for the last time maybe
Of daughters leaving with husbands for the first time maybe
Of husbands going to the corner for a drink for the last time maybe
Of mothers watching their families grow in the shadows of that door frame
Of seeing the world through that hazy screen with the kitchen behind them
Of wishing we wouldn’t leave
Of trying not to remember too well
Of holding back tears until we had cleared the yard
And pausing there a moment
A moment to themselves
A moment we might never know inside that place
That all of us walked through without thinking
Of who we were leaving or what we were headed out to do
But I won’t forget
For as long as memory serves
Or someone somewhere remembers
That screen door clapping behind you
Clapping all seasons of the year
Clapping for all reasons under the sun
Clapping until all our suns and moons decline
Beautiful! This poem conjures up so many feelings. I especially feel my great grandmother’s love and concern for her son Billy and his “friend” Peter every time the door clapped behind them. When my daughter came out as an 18 year old, I sought my mother’s wisdom on how best to let the rest of the family know (at my daughter’s request). “Lisa, just let them see that your love, respect, and support of Lindsey hasn’t changed one bit based on who she loves. It doesn’t change a thing for your father and me either just like it didn’t for my grandmother and Uncle Billy and Peter.” Mothers acknowledging that Love is Love. Powerful lesson. 🏳️🌈❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
As a gay kid who had a mom like you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. One of my Aunties (Mom's best friend Shirley) gave my mom an incredible support. When she had returned from a "meeting with the third grade teachers" about me wearing pants to school (in 1966; no dress code, and mom was saved by a custodian that heard this and went and got the principal who told the three teachers to leave both mom and me alone). One of the things the teachers threw at her was "what if she grows up to be a lesbian?" Shirley's response was "So what? There are so many worse things she could be."
It is the most important lesson of all.
I love this story, lead by example and with love! When my brother came out in the 80s, my parents wanted to find a way to tell their close friends. They had a dinner party and Mom wrote a poem she recited. This is fitting for today, to remember her poem and her delivery, which showcased things I loved very much about her, the poem rhymed, was silly and joyful, and she delivered it with a confident twinkle in her eye. Thank you for sharing and evoking that memory.
R. Dooley a beautiful, evocative poem. Helped me remember a poem I wrote about my lovely, loving grandmother some years ago.
Bellavia: On Visiting my Grandmother in Hospital
Pink-gray dusk of winter
Obscures the sunlight
Darkens treetops
Moments before lit with a silent glow.
As the light falls from her room
Her mind begins to wander.
She knows that soon she will not be;
she who has been so beautifully
will fade as evening light fades
taking with her a radiance
steady as the sun.
She thinks, or dreams perhaps,
of Italian nights of her childhood.
The stars were brighter then.
Her dreams more filled with hope,
as dreams of children are.
She took those dreams,
and with strength and pride
learned in her mountain town,
brought them to the land
where dreams come true.
Here she made a life
with the father of her children.
Too soon gone, he left her
with two daughters,
both reflections of her
beauty and her wisdom.
Now, child of her younger daughter,
I come to thank her for her love.
Her love that always answered, “Yes.”
to “Am I good?” “Do I deserve?”
A love that gave a center to all meaning
Allowing me to stand, and even run.
A mother’s love twice over,
given with a father’s strength.
A last, quiet kiss.
You are still missed.
Thank you!!! Beautiful
Lovely, Gina ... thank you so much.
Thank you! It's a lovely poem. My mother's mother in Pine Mountain, Georgia, had a clapping screen door that I heard all during my reading of it (and the sound of the spring stretching out, too), and I can see her standing behind it with her arm raised to wave goodbye. I can smell the pines and hear the jays. Her name was Robbie Lee Jackson.
Yes - that yawning sound of the spring!
R. Dooley, ....I am profoundly moved by something which I consider to be far more than a poem. I AM at that clapping door, watching the comings and goings and all the events of life big and small unfolding in my mind. You have given me a soft, whispering moment of rememberance that reaches deep into my heart. Many thanks for sharing such beautiful words and sentiments. God bless you and your Grandmother Ruth.
Words often fail, but now and then they find their way: I’m so happy to know these rang true for you.
" DITTO"!!!!!!💖💕💓
Beautiful poem —thank you — I’ve always loved screen doors and the sounds they make!
A lovely poem. Thank you.
Lovely. Makes me miss grandmothers AND screen doors!
Thank you R Dooley. I remember my Grandma Edith at the screen door just like this. It evokes all the summer smells on our visits to the farm in Ohio which were just outside the screen door. Especially the sweet hay and the fruit trees.
Thank you for this beauty, my friend. Simply gorgeous and bittersweet..
Beautifully written. I too remember the screen door sound - before AC. This brought back fond memories. At a local fair years ago we found & bought a small hand crafted screen door as a wall decoration. 🌞
This is beautiful. Thank you.
R.Dooley, a BIG Thank You for this!!!💓💕💖
Very nice. Captures lots of memory and emotion there.
Dr. Richardson, I have been reading and occasionally responding to your Letter for the past 6 months or so. I never expected to find such excellent writing and thinking out in Internet Land, but life is full of surprises and I am deeply grateful to you.
Unsurprisingly, Allison -- my 95 year old stepmother -- who "stepped" into my life when my father remarried a year after my mother died in 1964, is the one who suggested Letter from an American to me. Despite my often rude resistance to her during my rebellious teenage years, she managed to mother me (and her 3 children from her first marriage) while having a pretty luminous career at USAID and in the foreign service, even luring me to Kenya in the summer of '81 where I first met my Italian wife and discovered there was more to the world than just the USA. This was about 15 years after she convinced me to attend a summer camp near Carson City NV -- too far from my friends in DC, or so I thought -- that changed my life in many ways, all of them positive and permanent.
I've had a couple of other mothers along the way, but Allison is the champ and is still sharp as a tack, running her retirement community's library and complaining that "these old ladies just can't figure out data entry" as she tries to update the computerized book check-out system.
We men would be lost without our mothers.
How beautiful, David!
Well, Rowshan, there comes a time to give credit where credit is due. Mothers Day 2021 seems to be the day.
I believe so, David!
I had a creative writing teacher years ago who once advised: "Why waste a good cliché when your own words can work just as well?" That said, I will add this to my last comment: Better late than never!
😉😂Touché!
What a lovely tribute to Allison and the influence she has had on your life, and likely countless others.
What a wonderful tribute to her. I'm glad she's still going strong. And I love her name, even if she spells it differently ;-)
David, what a tremendous woman! Thank you.
Absolutely, David. Behind every successful married man, is a proud wife and a mother snickering over what was always obvious to her, because she knew what she was doing all of your life growing up.
Well, perhaps. What is "successful"? Did you mean to say "successfully married"?
Successful in traditional male pursuits (career, fatherhood, community, church, marriage) and married. 😊
So well said.
Heather, as painful as your missives are, reflecting the reality of our poorly educated populace, who seem incapable of critical thinking, and immoral leaders (not amoral because there is a distinction), this is the first time you have brought me to tears. Really good tears. Thank you for being the awesome being that you are. Carry on....
Paul me too-real tears.
You know and write wondrously of mother love. It is, I think, the granite on which your love for democracy stands. You show it in your daily posts and it is encouraging us to be strong, vigilant, and active. Thank you, thank you.
Beautifully said!
Thank you!
I am so glad you wrote this chapter from your life <3 I recall one of your weekday talks and you mentioned 'the washing machine' as the most important historical event by your neighbor. And I meant to email you to please tell us more!! I am not very patient, lol, but thank you!!
It brought memories of my Grandmother's washing machine, a huge cylindrical tub on wheels with the clothing wringer on top, placed on the front cement porch, with the clothesline nearby on their retired 100 acre farm in New Canaan, Nova Scotia. My Grandmother was 96 when she passed and I just welcomed my 94 year old Mother into my home on Hospice Respite care. Happy Mother's Day!!
Thank you for your own lovely memories of your Grandmother and her trusty washing machine...And a very special Mother’s Day Blessing for you and your Mother as you celebrate this day together.
Margaret Schock
Birmingham, Alabama
You'll enjoy this: https://www.ted.com/talks/hans_rosling_the_magic_washing_machine?language=en
My father “mothered” my sister and me. Supporting and nurturing, he was our head cheerleader. My mother was loving, but psychotic. My dad stepped in and was/is our role model for our relationships with our children and grandchildren today. We have many mothers among us in different forms.
I was in a similar family situation. My mom was present but she was a bipolar, alcoholic, drug addict. She died when I was 13 because of the alcohol and drugs. My father got custody of my brother and me when I was 11. He was both father and mother to us. I didn't realize it at the time but he was the most honorable person I ever met. He loved us and wanted us to become good people. I learned so much from his example. I learned to be caring and put other peoples' needs above mine. I learned to be honest. I learned to speak up for myself. I can't imagine where I would be if he had not raised me. I didn't realize that he had shown me all of these things until much later in life. He died when I was 24 years old. I wish I could talk to him now and let him know how I feel about him and what I now understand.
He sounds like he was an incredible man. Nothing wrong with talking to him even now, Wendy. The people we’ve loved and who have loved us are never really gone.
So true! They live in our hearts...
Thank you for sharing this recognition and respect for all your father did. It is beautiful. I was blessed with having my mom in my life for 50 yrs, and still wish I could talk with her now. She died 5 yrs ago. As Deborah suggested, they are still with us.
Thank you for sharing that Wendy.
An amazing story, Wendy. Your dad sounds like a gem, and you learned some valuable lessons from him. I'm sorry you lost him at 24. That was way too soon.
This is by far the best writing on Mother’s Day I have ever read. This year, especially, I have wished for far fewer posts glorifying motherhood and more respecting the pain of women who have lost children through death or miscarriages. And as one who has had several “other mothers” to whip me into shape, I devoured this post. Thank you, Heather Cox Richardson.
Loved this story. I am one of those women like her who becomes the second, third or fourth mother. And I see the role as important as any others I have. 💗
i never had children but am a fabulous aunt to many. i did bring 12.5 PhDs and 17.5 Master’s thesis students into the world. mothering these brilliant academics has been my most satisfying joy in the academy. HMD
I am in that same boat. So far, we've had two nieces live with us while going to college, and I am just waiting for my nephew to get off his butt and apply to the graduate program here in Eugene so we can get him, too.
Thank you for this great memory. I too had many mothers, most of them teachers. My mother died when I was a few days short of 18, so I have been without her for a very long time. I have no children, but considered many of the students where I taught, my kids. Many of them are now mothers (and fathers) themselves and I have enjoyed watching them with their children. In the hopes that we all have people who are special to us, both our actual family and those who we cherish outside our family.
There is a book titled "Motherless Daughters" published in the 70's (I think). My Mom was interviewed for that, as she lost her mother just shy of age 20 (from tuberculosis). In spite of being a life-long smoker and survivor of both breast and uterine cancer, she lived until the age of 82.
A lovely story...perhaps being remembered is the greatest gift of all.
This has bee a tough week. My late mother's birthday was the 3rd, then, of course Mother's Day and yesterday, May 8 is my lost brother's birthday. Just a week full of sad. I lost my mother in 2016 after Trump was elected. There was no fixing her. She had end stage COPD. We said our good bye's in the hospital--well, actually said "Til we meet again." She was going home with hospice in 2 days and my brother (whom she lived with) was getting the house ready for the parade of home care deliveries and admission nurses. She insisted they bring her home a day early. He called me the morning after her return to tell me she was gone. He was so choked up and upset that he did not even get one day with her alone. One year later, my brother was found dead in his bedroom by my nephew who had come to meet him to go to work. He overdosed on heroin that had fentanyl in it. He never shared this struggle with me. Since he lived in another state, I did not see him often and since he had his own contracting business in a busy city, he was always "on a job." I miss the hell out of both of them and I think I most resent being deprived of my little brother who should still be here loving being a grandpa to the most adorable toddler girl that he never got to meet. Both dead from substance abuse (my mother could never quit cigarette smoking) ... I guess I could add my Dad who died of lung cancer in 2005 to that list but this is May and it is my brother and my mother who I am most missing this moment. I think my brother really missed Mom.
Thank you for telling us this very sad personal story. What a lot of loss at once! Your mourning is a reflection of the affection your family shared. This is my first mother's day without my mother. She died in October.My children are visiting, and it's my mother they talk about- she was an important figure in all our lives. I'm grateful we had the time with her that we had, though she was hard to bear, for me, and I was angry with her a lot. A real matriarch. I'm very moved by HCR's post. And yours.
I am sorry or your loss. My mother, as she aged and her disability increased d/t her COPD and smoking--her world got a lot smaller. It seemed that she found every rationale to keep smoking. Her personality also changed quite a bit --she became more demanding and picky and would go on long jags of complaining about small details. In retrospect, I know some of it was the prednisone and a lot of it was an emotional response to losing control and autonomy but she was hard to take sometimes.
I'm so sorry for your losses, Cheerio. I hope this doesn't sound trite, but -- it will get easier in time. I send comforting thoughts to you.
Thanks for sharing this story. Your brother really did miss your Mom, and he knew she needed to come home. I'm sorry for that this loss is so intertwined. I lost my Mom to COPD as well. It hurts.
I feel like we ended getting more years out of her than we had the right to expect with her illness. I remember the doctor telling us we had maybe a year but instead we had six more. So I feel grateful for that. It hurts not having her here to talk to anymore. I also had some anger towards her for not being resolute enough to kick the smoking habit and had to resolve those feelings.
Cheerio, you are in my heart. I hope that you have some good memories to help ease the pain you're feeling. ❤
Thanks. I hope you all have a good mother's day.
Last year during the pandemic I received an email from a man in Canada claiming to be a 3rd cousin of mine. He has been interested in genealogy for a long time but because of the pandemic had a lot more time to spend on it and that is how he found me. We have become great friends and he has done a very long chart on my family, both on my father’s side (the side that we are related on) and generously also on my mother’s side.
I shared this newsletter with him and this evening he read this story. I received a text from him telling me that your Mrs. A is my 7th cousin twice removed! He sent me the chart going all the way back to 1641. As a kid growing up in Southern California we had always heard stories about a bandit on my great grandfather’s side whose nick name was “Bad Man Bascom”. I had told my newly found cousin about him and that is how he knew to run the chart and see if I was related to Sally. Small world.
What Fun!
That is so cool!!! Both the genealogy reach out and the relationship to Mrs. A.!