On the Eve of Labor

Why I started this work

I met so many mothers along the way.

Mothers in rest stops, washing toddlers’ hands in grimy sinks. Mothers at state parks, nursing babies under shady trees. Mothers at gas stations, frowning at racing dollars on the pump. Mothers in motel lobbies, pushing umbrella strollers and lugging diaper bags. Mothers in traffic jams, sitting shotgun next to teenage drivers. Mothers at ice cream shops, grabbing extra napkins for everyone. 

Everywhere I looked, I saw the mothers.

In a record hot summer, with deepening divisions over hot-button issues on parenthood, I couldn’t help but spy mothers everywhere on our road trip out west. I’m one of them, of course, and we naturally look through our own lenses, so it’s no surprise when we spot our own.

But what struck me most was the ordinary work the mothers kept doing, even on the road, even far from home, even in the midst of extraordinary times. 

Quiet caregiving keeps the world going. But how often do we stop to take notice? To give thanks for those who cared (and still care) for us in our neediest hours? To see the sacred, slow work of nurturing children and raising families?

To call this hard work holy.

I first dreamed up Mothering Spirit when I was a brand-new mom, lonely and lost.

After my first baby was born, I was itching for an outlet. Anything to channel my creativity and awaken my tired brain, exhausted from sleepless nights. 

Blogs were big back then, thirteen long/short years ago, so I started one secretly. Told not a soul, not even my spouse for the first few weeks. 

Even after I shared it with him and a few friends, I figured it would only be a way to keep writing through the early months of motherhood. A way to transition from the world of theology I’d just left for the world of parenting.

After all, who else would care about what I cared about—the intersections of motherhood and spirituality, theological reflections on everyday experiences, connecting our daily lives to God’s ways in the world?

Turns out I was wrong. Turns out a lot of you care, too.

I’ve gotten to know so many of you over the years, to hear your stories of love and loss, to share your journeys, whether joy-filled or burden-laden. I see you everywhere now.

All along the way, I dreamed of creating a place that could become not just mine, but yours.

Now that dream comes true.

//

Two years ago I got an email from a mother.

She told me, in honest and hard ways, that she had always felt excluded from my writing. That in my books and posts, what I tried to call universal about motherhood did not reflect her experience as a Latina mother. That as a creative person and a Christian and a white woman, I needed to open my eyes to see how even my best intentions could end up wounding others.

It was the hardest feedback I’ve ever gotten about my work. 

It was also the most important.

She helped wake me up to how my own life and work intersected with larger realities at a time when our whole country was reckoning with thorny truths about social injustices. If I cared about the peace, justice, and hope I wanted to embody as a follower of Christ, I had to let these hard truths change and challenge me. 

I had to learn how to do my work differently.

Her words have never left me, even as I stumble to live up to the call she gave, even as I feel the enormity of the task, even as I keep wrestling with my own blind spots and failings. The power of the truth she spoke—and that so many of you have helped me to keep learning—has led me here. 

Now I get to create a new way forward, with you. 

//

Starting this week, the space I created as a new mother will become a home for others.

Each Monday, Mothering Spirit will publish an original essay by a writer on parenting and spirituality, drawing from their own experience and faith tradition. On Wednesday we’ll share a prayer on the same theme, shaped by the liturgical seasons. On Friday we’ll invite feedback from readers—and offer resources to keep praying through parenting.

Transforming what I started as a young mom, especially as that first baby is now a teenager, feels like a tremendous gift. From the title I chose years ago, the Spirit has been leading this work in ways I never expected. I’m humbled to be along for the ride, and I can’t wait to see where Mothering Spirit goes and grows next.

That’s not to say this work has been easy. Resistance, doubt, discouragement, insecurity, uncertainty—all those anxieties are real, and I’ve wrestled mightily with them over the past months of birthing this new baby behind the scenes. Who am I to do this work? How on earth will I pull it off, personally, professionally, or financially? What is God up to here?

But I know this is where I’m called to change, to create a place for others. For new and emerging writers whose words deserve to find a wider audience. For women of color whose stories have not always been told in all churches and communities. For a new generation of parents who long to find God in this calling, too.

I’m flooded with gratitude and hope for all the writers who’ve said yes to my invitation to write. Above all, I’m beyond thankful to the God of goodness—the Creator who birthed my own creative calling, Christ who invites me deeper daily into the mysteries of faith, and the Spirit whose wind is breathing new life over these waters, bringing forth creation from chaos anew.

Please keep this work in your prayers, which have lifted me in seasons of devastating loss and brightening hope. More than anything, I hope that this space can become a place of prayer: for parents, for caregivers, for anyone who needs their spirit lifted in these difficult days.

We chose Labor Day for our launch with holy intention: to unite the labor of parenting with the hard work that so many do unseen and to pray for ways to create space for rest and prayer within the relentless work of caregiving. May this Labor Day open our eyes to more of the ways that God is at work in our work, both in our homes and out in the world. 

May God guide every step of our labor and fill us with hope for what comes next.

Visit Mothering Spirit on Monday to read our first essay from Vanesa Zuleta Goldberg.

If you’d like to partner with us, you can join our Patreon community for as little as $2/month and help pay just wages to the writers of Mothering Spirit. Learn more here.