Dear Mama,
I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice: you are tired. Not just the daily grind of motherhood tired. Not even the loopy, delirious kind of tired that comes with having a newborn. You are exhausted. You are running on a treadmill that is set one speed too fast and you don’t know when the workout will end.
The weight of it all is heavy on your shoulders: helping the older kids with their schoolwork while finding explanations for the little ones who ask why the library, the playground, and church are all closed; working from home with and around your husband while maintaining your marriage; providing meals and snacks for the mouths that just eat, eat, eat without going to the grocery store too much; worrying about the health of your loved ones and the state of your bank account while thanking God for the blessings you have. You are trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for your family. But this is not a normal time.
And I can see that you are doing the best that you can. You’ve taken the advice of experts and avoided too much news consumption, gotten outside for a little exercise and fresh air every day, and reached out to friends and family for prayers and moral support. Then why, I bet you are asking yourself, am I still running into the basement with tears in my eyes, desperate for a few moments of quiet and a piece of chocolate from my secret stash?
Because remember, you are doing this without the extra help that perhaps you had started to take for granted. The grandparents can’t take the kids for a few hours so that you can clean the house or have a thoughtful conversation over dinner with your husband. There aren’t anymore playdates or day trips to the zoo to ensure an early bedtime. Most importantly, you haven’t received the Sacraments in two months. You are aching for the healing presence of the Lord in Reconciliation. You hunger and thirst for the strength that is offered in the Eucharist. You are starting to realize, I think, how very much you relied on the grace of God when going about your daily life.
But that grace is still available to you. It might look like God does not have a plan and that He has forsaken us. You are grieving the cancelled or postponed graduations, weddings, birthdays and baptisms that were supposed to fill your weekends this spring. You are grieving too the lives that have been lost and the ability to mourn them in the way that they deserve and the way that we need. But, “we know that all things work for good for those who love God” (Romans 8:28). I don’t know when or how, but I do have faith that God will find a way to redeem even this pandemic in all its tragic loss. The same Lord who entered our broken, fallen world as a vulnerable baby is with us here and now. He hurts when we hurt. He is not afraid to get messy. He will be faithful to His promises.
This will not last forever. Some days I know like it seems like it will, but it won’t. The Israelites entered the Promised Land eventually, and perhaps they were more grateful for the destination because of the journey. As we work and wait, let us search for grace -- even beg for it -- in the small victories and blessings that surround us each day: the time to make pancakes on a weekday, the beauty in an evening walk, the opportunity to get to know our neighbors better, the gift of a new (even quarantined) day.
One day, we too will enter into a new way of life. We will find new wonder and awe in an embrace from a friend, a hard commute, or a long line at the coffee shop. I look forward to that certain day.
With love,
A friend
Catherine Sullivan serves her family as a stay-at-home mom and teaches religion and literature part-time at an all-girls Catholic high school. She holds a masters degree in systematic theology from the University of Notre Dame, where she focused her studies on the female Doctors of the Church. An outgoing introvert with a heart for Catholic feminism, Catherine lives in Maryland with her husband and daughter. Follow along on Instagram!
