What Does Love Require?

Megan Cottam shares her gratitude for the veteran mothers in her life who witness to Christian love.

Motherhood is so very blessed. Motherhood is insanely joyful. Motherhood is gut-wrenching and sobering. It is the deepest anxiety anyone will ever know. It is a roller-coaster of emotions, experiences, and encounters that can never be captured in full, no matter how great the scrapbook looks, or the social media account is maintained.

It is so many things wrapped up in one, but at the end of the day, the mothers who go before me have taught me one thing: it is release. It is the release of expectations, control, appearance, and everything else we can be deceived into striving or grasping for in modern life.

Recently, I have entered the sacred space of hard things alongside some veteran mothers. As their children age and go off to college (or not), discover their first jobs (or not), or explore their own faith (or not), the delicate dance of motherhood transforms into something supernatural. Whereas the greatest goal for my day is for my 4-year-old boy to avoid the ER after an acrobatics attempt, these mothers must balance the free will of their children with the permanent consequences and long-range impacts of their young adult choices.

These mothers have had to welcome teenage births, research rehab, navigate identity struggles, discuss atheism, and tackle every possible burden that makes life heavier. While I receive praise and cheerleading as I make it through another busy day of play, these mothers are handed judgment and gossip about their children.

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And yet, in each instance, these mamas know what to do with an intuition that astounds me: They do not react dramatically. They do not shun, judge or condemn. And they do not ignore or waver in their Catholic values. They all ask the question, “What does love require?” and then dive into courageous journeys of sacrificial and unconditional love.

I’ve seen them navigate hard conversations. I have witnessed more than one stand up for the beauty of life as they hold their unexpected grandchildren surrounded by a hypercritical community. I have watched them holding their children’s hands to get the help that is needed. I’ve seen them stare their prodigal children in the eyes and simply repeat “there is nothing you can do to make me love you less.”

How do these women do it? Where do they find the strength? They have managed to release their expectations for their children’s lives into God’s hands. They have a deep foundation of their own faith in which to anchor themselves. They have practiced their values year-in and year-out throughout their mothering so that their holy love is now an instinct and a reflex.

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Love washes your feet, breaks bread with you, walks the road to Calvary, and shows you the way. #CatholicMom

During Holy Week, our faith tradition reminds us of what love requires. What loves requires is often difficult, but never complicated.

Peter does not want Jesus to wash his feet, but this is what love requires. In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus does not want to face his cross, but this is what love requires. Coming out of a state of shock and grief, the apostles do not want to stay in Jerusalem, but this is what love requires. And somehow out of that requirement, courage and grace emerge.

Love washes your feet, breaks bread with you, walks the road to Calvary, and shows you the way. Love doesn’t grasp; it surrenders. Love is nailed to a cross, but love does not die. Love does not abandon you, but instead walks with you along the road to Emmaus until your eyes are opened.

In motherhood, in hardship, and in life, love always resurrects, and hope and joy return in a profound way. Mothers, I see you as you go before me, and I thank you for your witness. You have stayed faithful to what love requires, and even if no one tells you anymore, you’re still doing great.

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