Mother with daughter as daughter becomes mother: this is a timeless tradition that spans generations. It's a time when deep bonds are strengthened; when some of life's secrets are passed wordlessly from one generation to the next.
The older woman travelled to be with her daughter, and entered her home. She felt respect for her daughter's personal world, her husband and all that made up their lives. She experienced a sense of pride in her daughter's strength of character, and her desire to know and do what is good and right for her family; her child.
And so we shared the days: preparing meals and carrying out ordinary tasks, all the time welcoming reminiscences. When pottering in the garden, or going to the shop for something that might be useful when the time came, we enjoyed the harmonising of two lives for a brief period of time. We shared words of faith in God, the giver and sustainer of life.
We remembered times with my mother. My daughter remembered her grandmother's gentle, loving care. She recalled the holiday at the Gold Coast, when she had helped Grandma make pumpkin scones and a baked jam roly-poly.
I also remembered my mother's gentle, loving care. I recalled how she had been a midwife to me when I gave birth to my second daughter; how the simplest act by her had nurtured me in the way that my lonely heart needed; how the simplest meal that she prepared had met a deeper need than hunger.
This time of birthing has brought three generations of women together, even though my mother's life journey was completed many years ago. She accompanied me, as I accompanied, and at times guided my daughter.
... Her womb prepared to give up its treasure.
... She gave birth, and took her child to her breast.
... She accepted and embraced the work of mothering.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.