Nurturing Gratitude
A service for mother’s day
Rev. Mark Stringer
First Unitarian Church of Des Moines
5/11/03

 

“If the only prayer we say in our lifetime is ‘thank you’, that would suffice.” –Meister Eckhart (1260-1327), founder of the school of German mysticism

 

 

Reading         “Meditation for Mother’s Day”   by Elizabeth Tarbox

 

I stood out at the low-tide mark early in the morning, and looked back at the shore a quarter of a mile away.  Trees whose every branch I know when I am standing beneath them blended with their neighbors, and I could not recognize them.  I found myself looking at small segments of the shore and wondering: if a sliver was all I could see, would I know it to be my beach in the morning light?  Or would I know it only if I could see it all, in one majestic arc of familiar landscape?  Do I know it well enough so when I cannot see it, it is still there in my memory fresh and sweet?  Is it always available in the parts of my being that cannot be left behind?

         Do I know you well enough, so that I would recognize you from a great distance, from the tilt of your head, the sway of your step, or the merest whisper of your voice?  Have I looked carefully at you, and noted the texture of your skin and the color of your eyes, so that when you are miles from here, I can see you easily in the space reserved for the most precious memories?

         Have I trusted you enough, so you know who you are, and can be sure of yourself in a world that doesn’t want to trust?  Have I modeled the life I want you to live, one of caring and appreciation and feelings and love?  And have I learned all I can from you, so I can draw on your wisdom and lean on your truth, even when we are far apart?

         And have I loved you enough, so that you will know you are loved when the storms beat you down, the friendships disappoint, or the demands of a world that needs your love weigh too heavily on your shoulders?

         Have I said thank you to the creative spirit who brought our lives close enough to touch, and who gave us the chance to notice one another and dwell together in this moment?

         Then let me give thanks now.

 

 

Meditation         Naming our Mothers and Those We Have Mothered (inspired by the writing of Barbara J. Pescan)

 

In our culture Mother’s Day is a day when we have traditionally honored the woman who gave birth to us…or the woman who gave birth to our children.  But when we take a closer look, we know Mother’s Day is much more complex than that.  It is a day to honor the woman without whom we would not be here, yes.  But for many it is also a day to be reminded of an unfulfilled desire to bear children of their own.  It is a day to be together with the woman who sacrificed much of herself in order to have and raise offspring, but it is also a day for many to be reminded of challenging relationships, unresolved conflict, and mothers who are no longer here to visit.  It is a day for mothers to be surrounded by their children’s affection, but for many it is a day to remember children whose lives ended too soon.  Acknowledging the complexity of this day, then, let us pause now in a spirit of meditation, reflection or prayer.

 

Creative Spirit, Spirit of Life,

Mother of us all.

We carry with us this morning

All the accumulated baggage of our lives

Connections almost forgotten

Separations too easily remembered

We gather amidst the complexity of this day,

A day of love and longing,

Of remembering and returning,

To affirm the gift that we are alive

And that this gift was bestowed upon us

Through the life of one we call mother

A person with fears and dreams and challenges

A person with faults and failures and triumphs

A person who was once merely a child herself.

 

We will take a few moments now

To sit in silence

And then, one by one, aloud or silently,

We will offer the names of our mothers.

In appreciation…

In acknowledgement of all we did

And did not receive.

In forgiveness.

 

In the silence, allow yourself to rediscover

the connection you may have lost.

Allow yourself to bind what may have been separated.

And if you wish, after a time,

Say the name of your mother

Or say the name of the one who mothered you.

(silence)

 

Now offer into the silence

The names of those who

You have mothered and nurtured,

Who you have cared for and encouraged.

Those you have launched into life and heard into speech.

Say the names of your daughters and sons

Those who have walked with your heart

And those who have offered their hearts to you.

(silence)

 

We have offered these names of our mothers,

And of those we have mothered.

We have offered these pieces of our hearts

In recognition of the imperfections

That make us who we are.

In acknowledgment of the forgiveness we all require.

 

Now let us share a time of silence for the stories that remain untold

For the stories that reside in our hearts.

We will share a time of silence
for those mothers who have miscarried or terminated pregnancies

For those mothers who entrusted their children to adoption,

For those women eagerly awaiting adoption or pregnancy.

We will not forget you this day.

(silence)

 

Amen.

 

 

Sermon    

 

A while back, as I put together the first brochure for our small group ministry program, a program that is designed to serve no more than 10 people at a time, I was looking for a positive way to say that when a group reaches more than 10 members it will split into two groups.  The word “split” seemed too negative.  So in the first draft of the brochure, I wrote “When a group reaches more than 10 members, it will birth another group.”  When I shared the draft with the facilitators, one of the mothers in the group said that it was obvious the brochure had been written by a man. “Why is that?” I asked. “Anyone who had been through labor,” she said, “would not use the word ‘birth’ so casually.” 

 

In recent weeks I’ve had reason to think more about labor and birth because, as some of you know, my wife and I are expecting our first child in October.  One of our neighbors teaches birthing classes and has many resources available for us to borrow, including birthing video tapes, and we’ve already watched our share. These videos follow women through the various stages of labor and, of course, feature several actually giving birth. At first these tapes were a little much for me. (I confess, I can be a little squeamish) But with each show we’ve watched, I’ve gotten a little better at not needing to hide my eyes. And now that I’ve seen recordings of dozens of women giving birth…usually with their partners by their sides offering support…it’s easier to imagine my wife and I doing the same thing.

 

Even though I acknowledge that we all got here this way, that childbirth is wonderful and natural, the facial expressions and cries of pain that I have observed in the birth videos…particularly right before the baby emerges…still can make me wince…can make me wonder why my wife must go through this while I get to stand off to the side.

 

Of course, the best parts of the videos…the parts that almost always move me to tears…are just after the baby arrives.  All the pain…all the hard work of labor seems to fade with the relief of holding the baby at last. Through the videos, I’ve gotten familiar with the unmistakable look of appreciation on a mother’s face when she knows that the labor has ended.  Huge exhales, big smiles, and sobs of joy and relief fill the room.  The baby is welcomed with pure emotion and there doesn’t seem to be space for anything but glorious gratitude and love.  After viewing several of these moments edited together, it becomes apparent that each successful birth is a custom-made delivery of gratitude sent in human form…a special delivery of gratitude for life, for living, and for loving.

 

If there is a God who has designed the human birthing process, could it be that she made it such an intense experience to provide mothers with a coping tool:  So that when their two-year-olds or teenagers are driving them crazy, mothers may sincerely tell themselves to be grateful because at least they aren’t in labor? 

 

Or better yet, maybe painful labor precedes delivery to insure that the first emotion on display for the infant when it emerges from the womb is gratitude.  Think of it.  Every one of us must have emerged to grateful cheers of delight.  Every one of us must have entered the world swaddled in a great big verbal and/or nonverbal blanket of “thank you”…if for no other reason than that the ordeal of labor was finally over for our mothers.

 

Perhaps that’s why being on the receiving end of the gratitude of others can feel so good if we let it…because to receive an earnest “thank you”, is to be returned to our roots…to our first moments in the world.  To receive a “thank you” is to once again have our own worth and dignity affirmed.  To receive a “thank you” is not only to be reminded that we are alive, but that someone is happy that we are. 

 

I’m guessing that most of us underestimate the power of simple acts of gratitude, or we would perform more often.  We would be more apt to go out of our way to show appreciation…especially for things that we typically take for granted…if we knew how much it could mean.  But I think we do know.  We do.  We simply forget.

 

Think through your own experience for a minute.  Recall when someone offered you a “thank you” at just the right time…when you were on the verge of walking away from a project or a commitment or you were at your wits’ end with your family or your workplace or your church and someone surprised you with a heartfelt message of appreciation…nothing too fancy or flowery necessarily, but clearly sincere.  Perhaps the “thank you” helped preserve your commitment…or reminded you of why you got involved in the first place.  Maybe receiving the “thank you” encouraged you to give even more, to take responsibility for your experience or to believe in the value of your contribution.  And in the most illuminating moments, being offered a heartfelt show of gratitude might have inspired you to do the same for someone else.

Last week my computer at the church was zapped by an electrical surge through the phone line.  I lost everything on my hard drive and had to go without a computer for a couple of days.  Not a tragedy in the grand scheme of things, but a bummer all the same. Trying to be practical about the whole thing, I took advantage of the time “off-line” to do some old-fashioned ministry. I spent a few hours writing thank-you cards.  I probably wrote about twenty of these cards…nothing fancy, just a few sentences to convey my gratitude for some of the countless contributions of time and energy that had been offered to the church lately.  It was one of the more fulfilling couple of hours I have spent this year.  As I scratched out simple expressions of appreciation, I smiled to see some physical manifestation of my gratitude.  It pleased me to imagine the recipients opening these cards and being delighted the same way I am when I receive a written thank-you.  Whether a letter or card I receive is a few pages or just a few sentences in length, the idea that someone would take the time to intentionally think of me is truly a gift.  I agree with how author Macrina Wiederkehr puts it.  She writes, “Letters are the stories of our souls.  Unlike a telephone call, a letter can be picked up again and again.  It can be deeply pondered.”  She says, “I treasure my letters like early morning sunrises. I see the rays between the lines.  I hear the dreams and yearnings, the gratitude and the delight…all coming from the heart of this newly published author….Standing before my mailbox holding an original very limited edition in my hands is like standing before a feast.”[1]

 

I too treasure the thank you notes I receive and find in them a feast…a feast that renews me and encourages me and inspires me. I keep some in a special file that I return to when I’m feeling low.  And I leave some out on my desk so that I am reminded to write some for others when I have a free minute or two.

 

Writing and sending thank-you notes can be an extremely powerful act of ministry…a ministry in which we can all participate. When we write and send thank you notes, we effectively celebrate not only the lives of the recipients; we celebrate our own lives as well.  And this celebration can be wonderfully contagious because as we share our gratitude, we make it more likely that others will share theirs, too. 

 

That’s why on this Mother’s Day…this day to give thanks for this mysterious life that began because our mothers made the sacrifice to insure that it would…I ask that we set aside some time to nurture gratitude…to pass along the good vibes of gratefulness…to send out a wave of “thank you” energy from this community. In your order of service you should have a small “thank-you” card and an envelope.  Let’s take a few minutes now to perform what I would call a spiritual activity…an activity that connects us to something greater than ourselves.  I ask that we each write a thank-you note to someone in our lives.  It could be to a mother or a friend.  A spouse, a neighbor or a co-worker.   You could write a thank-you to a member of the church…or to your child.  It’s up to you.  You don’t have much space…so just a few sentences will have to do for now.  But I guess that’s a point I want to make.  You don’t have to write a book to thoughtfully thank someone…and it doesn’t take more than a minute or two to make someone’s day.  Pencils are now being passed around the room, so be thinking of who you want to thank.  If you know the person’s address, write that on the envelope, seal it and give it to Jeanne in the office.  She’ll run it through the postage meter and send it off for you.  Otherwise you’re on your own to get the card in the mail.  Either way, I hope you’ll take advantage of this opportunity to say “thank you”.  I hope you’ll take advantage of this opportunity to say “yes” to this life that we share.

 

Closing Words (Barbara Pescan)

Because of those who came before, we are;

In spite of their failings, we believe;

Because of, and in spite of the horizons of their vision,

We, too, dream.

 

Let us go remembering to praise,

To live in the moment,

To love mightily,

To bow to the mystery.