By Samuel Keating

For my daughter Audrey’s first birthday, my wife and I planned to have a small celebration with a few friends and family members at home; instead we ended up with a cupcake-themed extravaganza at the restaurant her grandparents manage. Admittedly, it was probably more for everyone else’s benefit. Audrey spent much of the time observing the proceedings warily from the safety of someone’s arms and flatly refused to pose for photos by her lone candle, despite (or because of) much encouragement to do so.

People talk about how fast time flies, and I feel it really does. Maybe that’s because I’m getting older. When I was a child, days, weeks, and months—not to mention years—seemed to pass so slowly; now it seems like only a few weeks ago that I first met Audrey. I remember that day so well, along with all my first impressions and emotions as I watched the nurse give Audrey her first bath, and then her falling asleep in my arms for the first time.

Before she was born, I often heard parents talk about the joys of having children, but I wasn’t convinced. I believed those parents truly thought they were happy, but I didn’t understand how. Weren’t their lives more stressful, tiring, and hectic than before? Didn’t they have less free time? Weren’t they embarrassed by their children turning over a plate of food, frazzled by their children’s whininess when they were tired, annoyed by their clinginess or repeated petty disobediences? I was sure I would be. While I enjoyed being around other people’s children, I felt I valued my time and comfort too much to ever have any of my own.

Now, however, I can’t imagine my life without Audrey. Every smile, every peal of laughter, every new discovery she makes, every new toy she masters, every animal sound she learns fills me with deep happiness and gratitude for her presence in my life. Her latest discovery is that a piercing shriek is an effective way to get my attention when she wants me to play with her or read her a book, but even that doesn’t take away from the love I feel for her or the happiness she brings.

Maria Fontaine


Motherhood may have its ups and downs, but when we stop to focus on what is truly great, truly important, truly wonderful in this world, one thing that most people will always have at or near the top of their list is the wonder of mothers.

How do mothers do it? What is the secret of that seemingly boundless patience, endurance, and love that seems to keep reviving again and again in spite of anything that life throws at it?

Here are some of my thoughts about mothers—things that mothers do, or are, that make them so special.

• What is given to a child from a mother’s heart, which has been broken and crushed and remade and filled to overflowing many times, is the confidence that, no matter what, they are valued and loved and there is always hope.


• Every mother who has given from her heart to her children has placed a part of herself—her life, her compassion, her hope—into their hearts and spirits through her love and patience and caring.


•  If you’re feeling that your own faults and failings and flaws have disadvantaged your children, even though you have loved them and given them what you could, you might want to reflect on how even God’s great, perfect, flawless love for all humankind doesn’t guarantee that we will turn out perfect and without mistakes, failings, or problems. No matter how great a job you do as a mother, it will not guarantee that those you pour your life into will turn out the way you would like them to. But one thing is certain: your loving hand in their lives—through example, through instruction, through care, and through prayer—always makes a difference for good.


• What if you never personally bore a child? You partake of motherhood if you have cared for a child who needed you. You’ve imprinted a touch of yourself on that life.  


• Mothers are God’s great gift to each child and to this world. 


• It costs to be a mother. It costs in loss of freedom to do what you feel like doing. It costs in putting your children ahead of yourself day in and day out. As one writer expressed it when writing about his mother: “I see sacrifices made for me and dreams imprisoned that mine might be free.” 

          Motherhood costs in carrying not only your own pain and sorrow, but also the pain           
          and sorrow of those in your care. It costs in battling their fears on top of your own and 
          worrying as your children fall again and again. It costs in trying to muster a little more 
          strength when yours is gone, yet more is needed to lift those who are looking to you 
          for strength. It costs when hope seems gone, yet you know that you cannot let go for 
          their sakes, and you hope against hope until you see them back on their feet.

• A mother’s love is so supernatural that it can’t be explained. As one poet put it:

          It is far beyond defining,
          It defies all explanation;
          And it still remains a secret
          Like the mysteries of creation.

          A many-splendored miracle
          Man cannot understand,
          And another wondrous evidence
          Of God’s tender guiding hand. 

• What are some of our personal qualities and attributes that influence our children in positive ways?
  

a. Unconditional love toward them and others.

b. Balancing moral standards with compassion and mercy that teaches them forgiveness and tolerance, coupled with a conviction for what is true and right.

c. Prayer, faith, and trust as an integral part of our relationship with our children.

d. The example of trust and faith that we show in how we react to the heartaches that come into our life and into the lives of others.

e. The resilience we show when we make mistakes or fail, and the seeking of ways to grow from the experience, so that our children, when they make mistakes, can discover the purpose of them without condemnation.