Wisdom from the Inside

Megan Cottam shares a wakeup call she received from women sharing their experience of motherhood during incarceration.

Each Friday, I have the privilege of entering into the sacred space of room 242 at the regional jail. It is a room that communicates nothing kind. The concrete walls are always cold. The tables are intentionally weighed down so they cannot be thrown. The windows create a fishbowl effect as the guards are always watching. Women enter the space for all sorts of reason—to escape the chaos of their dayrooms, to have on record that they did something reputable in hopes for an early release, or simply to see a human from the outside. There are very few who identify with any particular church background, but they do come seeking Truth and hoping to be told that someone still loves them.

We gather together to break open Scripture. We open to the upcoming Sunday readings and begin a conversation. Other than being imprisoned together, these women have nearly nothing in common. They span ages, political spectrums, socio-economic status, and education. Sometimes there is fruitful discussion, sometimes there is tension between inmates, and sometimes there is silence or quick answers. This was one of those silent days, where nothing seemed to resonate.

We end each study in open-forum prayer. Of all the things that an inmate can pray for, on this particular day one woman prayed to be reunited with her toddler so she can watch him enjoy his goldfish and favorite Spiderman show. She bartered with God that she would never complain about crushed Goldfish on the couch cushions again; that she would give her son her full attention and learn all the correct superpowers of his favorite heroes. Of all of her current struggles and regrets, this was her deepest wish. Several other women, who had been distant before this point, immediately broke down in tears and they choked out a “Yes, Lord” and an “Amen.”

This was the connecting point.

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A seemingly insignificant aspect of motherhood had finally broken down the barriers between these inmates. From here, a poignant and insightful discussion occurred on the gift of motherhood and how hard the loss of their children to various custodial agreements weighed on them all. The self-righteousness and hardened exteriors melted into desperation at seeing their children and restoring their relationships. They did not need their children to achieve or do anything; they yearned to simply accompany them.

Motherhood, and all its emotions of insufficiency, guilt, hope, and unconditional love, cuts across all backgrounds. While motherhood in a healthy, stable environment sure can look different than motherhood through incarceration, foster care, and poverty, the bonds and desires remain. Time and again, these are the only thing powerful enough to help the women rise past their circumstances, whether it is addiction, abusive or unhealthy relationships, or a hardened and angry life. Even lacking their own self-worth, they have a deep longing to improve their lives for their children.

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Motherhood is not only an assignment to care for a child, but a way of life that opens our own hearts to where God seeks our change and growth. #CatholicMom

These women challenged me to examine the life I can take for granted. What minor annoyance should I see as gift? Where do I need to increase my gratitude? Where must I slow down and give the gift of presence to my own children? Many people can provide my children with things, experiences, or even care, but I am only one who can give my own presence and attention to them. No one can replicate my unique love for them.

In return, how do my children help me be a better version of myself? Motherhood is not only an assignment to care for a child, but a way of life that opens our own hearts to where God seeks our change and growth. Children make us better versions of ourselves if we let the Lord speak through them.

Perhaps the only way we can show gratitude is by living the day well. I certainly came home, prepared a snack, and read my son some 5-minute Avengers stories the three times in a row that he demanded. He cuddled in close, crumbs and all, and I thanked God for the gift.

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