Becoming a Matriarch

Liesl Schiavone contemplates the journey from mother to matriarch and the call to leave more than a memory, but a legacy. 

I’ve spent a lot of hours thinking about motherhood. I always knew I wanted to be a mom, I never questioned that motherhood was my vocation, and I’m grateful that my hopes aligned with God’s will. I entered motherhood with astounding confidence and was immediately knocked off my feet with a traumatic birth, extended hospital stay, and two quite unplanned surgeries. In this journey, I’ve beamed with joy, and I’ve been brought to my knees. 

I’ve thought a lot about the challenges of being a mother: the little failures that speckle the day-to-day, the sharp tongue and unrealistic expectations, and the softening and healing found in the apologies and cuddles at the end of the day. The worry about the future and the problem-solving of the present. And I’ve thought about the joys of motherhood: the belly laughs and eureka moments, the independence and confidence that comes slow and fast at the same time. The moments when you beam with pride at just the sight of a joyful child. 

I’ve thought a lot about motherhood—but It’s only been in the last year or so that I’ve begun to ponder what it means to be a matriarch. I feel like the word matriarch gets a bad rap, like it’s wrapped up in images of overarching critique and antiquated expectation. But in losing our matriarch, I’ve developed a new and better understanding of this almost archaic word.  

I see a matriarch as something much different now. Someone beautiful and loving, someone who teaches truth and prays fervently, someone who keeps all members connected. Someone who knows the crosses that each member carries but never discloses the weight of those crosses to another. Someone who knows all the things, like who is married to who and where that vase came from and the names of the people in the old pictures and how to make the gravy and where that Easter casserole recipe is stored. Someone who is always ready to welcome another mouth to feed or invite a friend home for a holiday. Someone who remains the primary thread in the tapestry and the cornerstone of the home, wherever that may be. A good matriarch is one who possesses beauty, wisdom, and a staunch commitment to the good and the beautiful and is committed to passing that on to the next generation. 

On the day of my mother’s funeral, I was afforded the most beautiful vantage point. Because I had the privilege of singing the funeral liturgy, I did not process behind Mom’s casket with the rest of the family but stood in the front and sang the entrance hymn. I’ve done enough funerals to know that it’s best to avoid eye contact and keep your eyes above the congregation, but I took a moment to look and I caught a glimpse of Mom’s legacy: Dad, with all of their kids and grandkids, close to 50 of her most beloved, accompanying Mom to the altar of the Lord as she made her journey toward eternal life. It was the most beautiful sight and one I will cherish forever. That’s what it means to live your vocation well. That’s what it means to be a matriarch. 

If there is one thing I hope to accomplish in this life, it’s that. To be a wellspring of love that that leaves more than a memory, but a legacy. Not a legacy of fame or success, but a legacy of love, obedience, and unshakable faith in the promise of eternal life. I hope to guide these people that have been entrusted to my care to know and love Jesus and to hold an eternal perspective, as Mom did. And in turn, I hope to be accompanied to the altar and prayed home by those who carry on that legacy. 

Dear mothers, as you journey through these years of giving all that you have—the long days of tears and messiness, the years of perfecting your unique balancing act, and of loving more deeply than you knew possible—know that you are becoming something new. You’re becoming a matriarch. 

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Copyright 2024 Liesl Schiavone
Images: Canva