These mothers gave every fiber of their being
"I couldn’t know God’s love for me unless I accepted and uncovered all of me"
This week on Mothering Spirit
Sarah Ku shares how learning about the Korean mother martyrs shaped her own faith:
“Reading the stories of the Korean saints to me is like sparks flying when meeting a new mom at the park. There’s the thrill of each shared connection and an eagerness for more.
When I learn about the Korean saints, I find threads connecting me to them in our shared Korean heritage. As a mother, I am drawn particularly to the saints who were also mothers. I see their uniquely Korean maternal instinct, the combination of self-sacrifice and nourishment of their family.”
Read the whole essay here: What The Korean Mother Martyrs Teach Us.
Alissa Molina offers a beautiful practice for blessing those who need prayers:
Sometimes I ask St. Joseph to stand in the room
with a brother or
son or
father
I know
who is going through something hard,
or lonely,
or maybe even unspeakable.
I ask St. Joseph to place his calming, patient,
loving hand upon the person’s shoulder so that they may know he is
not alone.
Read the whole reflection here: Holy Family Prayer.
From our sponsors
This week’s sponsor of Mothering Spirit is Give Us This Day, a monthly publication to help you pray daily: morning/evening prayer, Mass readings, and reflections on Scripture and saints. Get your free sample of the print edition here or download the app here for a free 30-day trial to help you pray in the midst of your busy days!
This Week’s Recommendation
Each Friday we feature more work from our writers. This week we shared an excerpt from Tell Me the Dream Again: Reflections on Family, Ethnicity, and the Sacred Work of Belonging by Tasha Jun:
“These days when I feel lonely in my Asian American body or when the world feels too harsh and violent toward Asian American bodies, I intentionally go back to my memories. I remember the moments when I felt most at home. I remember what it felt like to sweat while frying mandu in an eighties-style German kitchen while the oil popped, interrupting our conversation.
I remember moments when shalom wasn’t just something to long for but something that wrapped itself around me, reminding me this is the body God gave me, with a biracial Asian American heart, mind, and soul, where the Holy Spirit dwells. It was never meant to be a barrier to being whole and at home; it was through this exact vessel of veins and genes, through the precise distance between my eyes, and through every thick, textured hair on my head, that God intended for me to understand that I am known and that Immanuel is with me.”
Read the whole excerpt here: Korean Washcloths: Messengers of God’s Nearness and Love.
In Your Words
Starting this fall we’re featuring more of your words on our Substack! We know social media is a place where mothers of all ages and stages share from the heart about their joys and challenges. Each week we hope to bring you a glimpse into one mother’s life—in the hopes that her words might resonate with your own story.
This week’s post comes from
(@neidyhess on Instagram):“I am the daughter of refugees—I’ve lived a different sort of life.
I only have one, maybe two baby pictures—I always envied people who have full albums of their infancy. When I was a baby, I crossed a border. The border crossing continued into my childhood. So often, I crossed borders of language—and I did it for my parents.
I am the daughter of refugees. I learned to walk the tight rope between western culture and my own. I watched TV shows in two different languages. I spent many evenings sitting next to my mom answering the question, ‘¿que dicen?’ And I made sure we would switch the channel to her telenovelas at exactly 7 PM.
I am the daughter of refugees. We brought new meaning to home-cooked meals. Because when you leave your country, all you have left are ingredients to make something taste like home. From chayote to nopales to nanches—you could distinguish a meal from the calle to something which calls you from the dinner table. The dinner table and chairs were always covered in plastic so as not to stain the sacred moment where we gather to find home once again.
I am the daughter of refugees. I’ll never forget—that I still look for home at every chance. Because when your worlds collide at the border, creating home means creating refuge.”
Want to share your words? Know a friend who’s a great writer? Tag @mothering.spirit on social media & we’ll let you know if we’d like to feature it in a future Substack.
If you like what you read at Mothering Spirit, we’d love if you’d share this with a friend! Maybe someone who needs encouragement in her mothering—or a place to pray in the midst of her busy days. Thanks for supporting our writers by sharing their work, following us on Instagram or Facebook, or supporting us on Patreon.
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