The Mother Who Knows

This Mother’s Day, I find myself feeling the quiet, constant presence of Mother—the one who holds all life in her embrace.

Life itself mothers me.

She holds me in the palm of Her hand, steady and sure, whispering of my magnificence. She sees me fully—some dreams still forming, others not yet claimed.

She sees the light I carry long before I believe or name it.

Without asking for proof, she surrounds these tender things with love.

With protection.

With trust.

With gratitude.

She is silent when I stumble. Not with indifference, but rather, wisdom. She knows that falling is part of the rhythm of life's learning. 

When I rise again—perhaps aching, at times uncertain, always wiser—She rejoices. Not because I got it right, but because I got up.

Have you ever noticed how gently Life lets you begin again? How often She whispers without demanding your attention?

This Mother does not rush me. She knows that time is not my enemy. She trusts my innocence, honors my curiosity, and delights in my wonder. She waits—not with impatience, but with the kind of trust that only comes from deep knowing.

She is the presence behind every quiet breakthrough, every whispered yes.

She is the soul’s midwife of the moments when I finally ask, finally listen—when I open my heart wide enough to receive answers that have been waiting.

She gives me no labels, no assumptions, no assigned personality. She doesn’t reduce me to role or title. She resists the world’s rush to define or confine. She simply knows.

She knows I am an eternal being.

She knows I came with purpose.

She knows that I am forever whole.

And here is what I know:

To be mothered is not limited to biological bond or family story.To be mothered is to be seen and held—in the unseen moments, in the silent trust of something greater.

Every woman has been mothered by Life. By the echoes of women who came before her. By the soft voice within her today that says, “You are worthy. You are becoming. You are loved.

”So I ask:

• In what ways have you been mothered—by nature, by community, by quiet grace?

• Can you name a time you were gently guided without knowing it?

• What if your path isn’t unknown, just blooming—in its own time, in its own way? 

I honor the great mother of Life itself who calls and carries us—who has always known, always trusted, always loved.

And may we, in turn, mother the world in the same spirit. It is open and ready.

With love and wonder.