Awaiting a Birth

I’m a childless 50-year-old woman. Not by choice. It’s not that I have infertility problems — not precisely — nor that I never met the right guy. It’s also not because I’m a nun, because I’m definitely not a nun. The reason that I’m not a mother, not a mother of my own child or even of an adopted one, is that it’s not my calling. My calling is not to engage in married love, conceive and bear children, and mother those children with all my motherly love.

And I’m sad about that. I would’ve loved to have been a mother.

This has been a very bitter pill for me to swallow throughout my life. The sadness and desire were very strong within me when I was in my 20s and 30s, and even into my early 40s. Perhaps this is because I was of natural childbearing age then, when the absence of a child in my arms literally made my bones ache. I seem to be more wistful about it now, maybe like an old woman remembering her youthful dreams. Well, okay, maybe not like that, because I’m not old yet! But I am past my childbearing years.

God Is Good

Though childless myself, I have been able to experience the breathtaking joy of children who love me: my sister’s children, children whom I love with all my soul and into the very marrow of my bones. I’ve had the privilege of being an aunt and watching my nephews from their squirming, fragile newness to their muscular, decision-making maturity. The memories that I hold the most warmly and intimately in my heart are of my little ones when they were three or four years of age and full of wonder. I would spend hours with each little boy filling their sensitive ears and wide open eyes with stories and the amazement of the world around us. And I would listen to their innocent questions and comments, sometimes filled with wonder myself by the intelligently strange and often profound depths of their simple thoughts.

They made me happy, so very happy. Yes, I’m so glad they came into my life.

God is good.

Having a glimpse of motherly love, I have also come to understand something of the pain of it. Children move too quickly through time, and moments are too often lost. The suffering of the child is a different kind of suffering for the one who loves the child parentally, a heartbreak that is like no other. More than a mother or father has ever wanted anything for herself or himself, they want their children’s happiness, health, well-being, purpose, security, friendships, faithful love, and true joy that lasts forever. Parents of children also suffer the burden of responsibility, knowing that what they do and say in the raising of their children will affect them for the rest of their lives.

As an aunt, I have not had as great a responsibility as a mother would, and that’s not such a bad thing. Since they have become teenagers and out on their own more or with their friends, I can go many, many days without needing to make time and space for them and, though they are always in my daily prayers and they will always be in my heart, I don’t think about them as often or to the same degree that my sister and brother-in-law do. This is naturally so. There is something particularly unique about being a mother to real and particularly unique children. I can’t really grasp the whole concept or the daily living of the role.

With my nephews in my life, some of the sadness of being childless has certainly been lessened. And I have also seen that the grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence. We too often want something without clearly understanding all of the ramifications. And I do see more clearly now that I need to be who I am where I am. Some say that all women are called to be mothers and all of us mother in different ways. But I don’t need to think about it that way anymore. My vocation is to write. And that is enough.

Where am I going with all of this?

What Child Is This?

Advent is the season when we await the birth of a child. But the true beauty of that child can be lost as we also await the festivities of holiday get-togethers or the opening of Christmas presents on the big day. Advent is a season of preparation — not to prepare for parties by decorating or gift shopping or baking — but to prepare for a unique kind of parenthood by focusing on our hearts. With Mary, we prepare to ponder in our hearts the amazing wonder that is God’s Only Begotten Son. She will take Him not only into her arms, but also into her heart. We, too, are called to take Christ into our hearts. But are we truly prepared to do this?

Endless songs of good cheer will not prepare us. Mournful songs would be better. On Christmas, we won’t be celebrating the birth of a little baby the same way that I celebrated the births of each of my nephews or you, dear reader, may have celebrated the births of your children. We’re talking about God, here, about Infinite and Eternal God being made flesh, coming to live among us as one of us, in our human limitations and struggles to save us — to die for us and rise from the dead so that we may rise with Him to eternal life in the World to Come. That’s mind blowing. We need more than the four weeks of Advent to ponder and understand the meaning of it. But we can make a good start.

Celebrating the birth of Jesus is the same as celebrating the birth of our nephews, nieces, children, and grandchildren, however, in this way: Jesus Christ is given to each one of us and we are responsible for His welfare here on Earth.

How are we doing with that?

Jesus could very well say to us, “I was hungry and you gave me no food… I was homeless and you gave me no shelter… I was ill and you did not care for me….”

Good News

Every loving mother ministers directly to Jesus Christ by ministering to her children, feeding, sheltering, and caring for them. Every loving father does the same. And I too, though childless, can minister directly to Jesus Christ by fulfilling the particular vocation given to me — by answering the call of God in my life. Through true faith, hope, and love, I cooperate with the Holy Spirit, and I am mother to my Lord with every loving word that I write.

This Advent season, let’s not busy ourselves and giddy ourselves, but remember that we are weak, that we fail, and that we need God’s mercy in our everyday lives so that we may be renewed and fulfilled in our eternal destinies. Remembering this, let us be in awe, filled with wonder that God’s mercy comes to us in the innocent, squirming newness of His own Son. Weak and limited as we are, we need to be renewed every year. In this season of Advent, in the waiting, let’s prepare our hearts to make room for Jesus and the love that only He can bring.

© 2024 Christina Chase

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Feature Photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash