Nine moms were sitting around Winnie's kitchen table praying a rosary. One mother of eight sat nursing her little girl, looking so tired but peaceful. A mother of seven closed her eyes as she prayed, deep in concentration. Her sixth has Downs Syndrome. Yet another mother of eight, one of whom is severely autistic, looked down at her beads as she prayed. Below us were two moms on the floor: one tending to her twins in matching carriers, another keeping her two toddlers occupied. A host of children was swarming around us like honey bees, playing with a toy kitchen and building blocks.
In our rosary, we read a short reflection before each decade. One reads: "Jesus came quietly into the world, in poverty and anonymity. Yet he came with power to change the whole world."
I thought, "That is what these women are doing! They have completely yielded their lives--every moment of every day--to Christ's kind of love. Every moment of their lives is a sacrifice, imitating the cross. All day long they serve the needy, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and teach the ignorant. Because of their abundant family sizes, these women have not one minute to themselves. They have so little time, so little comfort, so little rest. They are living out poverty. But it is a poverty of love. It is truly a vocation made in the image of Christ. If he came to change the world, then I believe he is going to do it through these moms."
Choosing a powerful public career may make some difference in the world. And so will being a Catholic mom. It is a vocation deeply embedded in the spirit of the gospel. Despite its poverty and anonymity--or because of its poverty and anonymity--it is a calling that shares the love and the power of Christ.
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