“Whatever else is unsure… a mother's love is not.”

-James Joyce

When Michelangelo unveiled his Pietà in 1499, not every critic was pleased with his sculpture of Mary cradling her lifeless son. Some complained that the figure of Mary was “too large.” Pondering the comment, Michelangelo replied, “I disagree. For surely a mother must have a generous lap.”

A mother's lap needs to be ample. That's something every schoolchild knows. Soft and warm, cozy and welcoming, a lap is a place to curl up for a nap, listen to a story, or go to for a tender snuggle. Whether covered by an apron, cradling a ball of yarn, or holding a book, a mama's lap is a place of comforts. It's where many of us first grasped one of life's eternal verities: that a mother is a gift.

Mother. Take a minute, if you will, and meditate on the word. Let it filter through your mind and sink into your consciousness. If the experience unleashes a flood tide of memories, don't be surprised.

From the time Eve gave birth to the world's first children, motherhood has been a complicated role. Sizing it up can be daunting.

For many of us, the word mother transports us back to our childhood, when we were small and incapable of fending for ourselves. Ever present and all powerful, mother was the force at the center of our universe who gave us life and helped sustain it. If we wailed for food, mama gave us milk. If we yearned for sleep, she rocked us in her arms. Like a steadfast soldier standing watch by our bedside, mother was the sentinel who banished the bogeyman, taught us our prayers, and ushered in good dreams.

As we grew up and ventured out into the world, mother's role expanded. Like an enchanted shape shifter changing parts on cue, she not only helped with homework and sorted out our Halloween costumes, she also mended our broken hearts and forgave us our trespasses. Serving as healer, troubleshooter, nurturer, and confessor, mother was our jack-of-all-trades in the school of hard knocks. When the lesson plan got rough and we were at risk of failing, she was the nurse on call who provided first aid.

How she did it was simple. She did it with love, a pure and inexhaustible supply. So great and unconditional was this love that it enabled her to move mountains that got in her way. Depending on what was required, she could be sacrificing, selfless, and compassionate-or as ferocious and combative as a mother lioness defending her cubs.

“Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill o' a world,” the novelist James Joyce once wrote, “a mother's love is not.” Joyce was merely acknowledging what is evident to all who can see: that a mother is a gift.

Copyright © 2003 by Redbridge LLC

Tags: Motherhood

About the Author

Joann Davis - formerly a successful editor and now an agent, packager and writer, brings to this series a decade of experience working on bestselling inspirational projects.