The Scandal of Joy in Motherhood
the vulnerability of choosing joy in motherhood, in spite of it all.
“Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.” -Wendell Berry
I think there’s a real vulnerability to joy. If we choose to allow ourselves to feel it, to then express it, there’s the worry that we could lose it. And lose it we very well may. Joy isn’t and doesn’t need to be anchored by our circumstances, though. It can be a bit less fickle and easier to conjure up than happiness.
When mixed with motherhood, joy becomes an extraordinary cocktail especially if we’re bold enough to speak on it. If we are called to motherhood, if we share our joys we’re accused of pride, foolishness, or dishonesty.
Lately I’ve been thinking about how quickly things can change, how we are living perhaps moments from some sort of disaster. I think this time of year reminds me of other challenging Lenten beginnings, and of course, when the pandemic really required us to change our behavior during March of 2020.
I remember reading an article about a book by Toni Morrison, and how she’d written a character who cut herself off from an all-encompassing, massive love for her child as a form of protection. Eventually, she gave in, succumbing herself to the love for her beautiful child. I think joy in motherhood is exactly that.
I am run over by the love I have for my children in a primal, almost inexpressible way, and yet I am aware of how delicate all our lives are. As a result, I will ask myself questions like--
What if I don’t look both ways when I’m running one day and have my air pods in and get hit by a car and leave my children motherless?
What if we are driving home from swimming and get hit by a careless driver?
Perhaps this is why our culture eschews the deepest expression of joyful motherhood. We all know the “what ifs,” and we have all watched tragedy in our community or within our homes. I’ve come to realize, though, that this is exactly why we must cling to joy.
We are doing it despite all the what ifs or the questions we ask ourselves. It’s really at the end of the day an act of radical resistance. A swimming against the tide.