The Little Way of Motherhood

The Little Way of Motherhood

Written by Megan Keyser

When I was very young, my greatest dream was to become a mermaid. I remember fervently envisioning my future existence under the waves, inspired by innumerable retellings of Anderson’s The Little Mermaid and fueled by my intense love for the water. To the young, dreams rarely seem unattainable. I felt certain that someday my legs would fuse into one shiny, glorious, iridescent tail, allowing me to live beneath the waves.  

As I grew, my aspirations changed, but the magnitude of my starry visions did not: whether I contemplated becoming a nun, an actress, or an author, all of my plans involved tangible success and definitive recognition. Even as my designs later morphed into less egocentric hopes, I still craved accomplishment and human regard. When I unexpectedly found the love of my life at age twenty-one, I felt that I had been granted one of my fondest wishes in the form of matrimony, and through rose-colored lenses, I eagerly anticipated a perfectly blissful marriage, consistently sweet and well-mannered children, and plenty of opportunity to pursue my own private goals unhindered.

While, undoubtedly, I have received countless gifts throughout my marriage, these blessings have certainly not always been what I envisioned. Oddly enough, the blessings I have received have very often completely eroded my old conceptions of happiness. More frequently than not, these gifts have come in the form of crosses—trials sent to reshape my own heart.

Once, when I lamented my frustrations and disappointments with motherhood to our priest, tearfully bemoaning the lack of alone time, the growing pile of broken household items, and the evaporation of many of my most cherished plans, he agreed that it was hard, horribly hard, in fact, a death. I recall his words, spoken in perfect seriousness: “Your children are literally trying to kill you.” I weakly laughed, assured of the truth spoken. “And that’s a good thing,” he continued, “They are putting to death the parts of you that need to die—the parts which need to be stripped away for you to become a saint.”

In reading Dorothy Day’s Therese (Well-Read Mom Year of the Giver), I noticed this emphasis on eroding self-interest to grow in Divine Love, which reverberated through the teachings of Saint Therese and her “Little Way.” A talented, vivacious, beautiful young girl, Therese was filled with audacious hopes and desires for spiritual greatness and closeness to the Lord, even as a very small child. Still, it wasn’t until “Love and a spirit of self-forgetfulness took complete possession of [her] heart” that she truly began on the road to spiritual perfection in Christ (page 111). 

Before this time, as Therese struggled under the weight of heightened introspection and an interior focus on her own failures and anxieties, she was not truly free to express love in fullness. Yes, she almost always was dutiful in prayer, thoughtful in works, and pious in nature, but her interior focus inhibited her from dying to self-concern and from living wholly for God and others. By learning to emphasize her littleness—not in a negative way, through association with failure, but positively, by resting, as a humble child, in the light of God’s paternal mercy and compassion—Saint Therese became, as Father Pere Liagre described, “the living commentary on the Gospels, the most beautiful commentary because the most simple” (161). 

With her intelligence and fire, Therese could have pursued the loftiest spiritual ambitions. Ultimately, she, like her Master, chose the path of simplicity and obscurity to accomplish the greatest of ends: “to die of love,” in complete and trusting surrender to Father, for the Glory of God and the Salvation of the world, without seeking the recognition or regard of others (186).

Surely, “For one with great desires, great ambitions, a strong will, and a thirst for martyrdom…it was no doubt an act of humility to recount the little incidents, the little sufferings of her daily life which seem of so little account when put down on paper,” yet Therese displayed the immense power of God through humility, patience, and sweet temper—not in the face of extreme perils or arduous feats, but simply through ordinary living (140). What a powerful lesson for us, as mothers (or others facing the frequent monotony of daily life) beset, like Therese, with “hemmed-in days [and] small duties, always…the same tasks, the same routine” to discover the enormity of Therese’s “Little Way of Love” with “all the power of the spirit of Christianity behind it…an explosive force that can transform our lives and the life of the world, once put into effect” (162 & 192). 

Therese once wrote, “Few are the souls that aspire to be lonely and unknown” (194). This is undoubtedly true in a world that elevates tangible results, distinctions, and accolades. Yet, motherhood, marked by its simplicity, humility, and “ordinariness,” is a path ideally suited to scaling such spiritually imposing heights.

Moreover, I am inclined to believe Saint Therese would agree, else I do not believe she, who so passionately sought to model her own heart after God’s, would have insisted: “The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the heart of a mother.” So, each time we suppress a sigh and offer a smile, or stoop to pick up yet another toy without grumbling, or patiently serve another before ourselves, though our efforts may seem less than an “atom” in the eyes of the world, we are a part of this “explosive force” of love, which “transform[s] our lives and the life of the world”…for Him (140).

About Megan Keyser

Originally hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Megan is a 2006 Hillsdale College graduate with a degree in Classical Studies. These days, Megan thrives on the challenges and joys of her role as a Catholic, stay-at-home mother, who heads a chapter of the Well-Read Mom, dabbles in social commentary and other writing pursuits, and advocates for the pro-life cause. Despite the inevitable chaos of large family life, Megan is thankful for her lively brood and relishes juggling household responsibilities, babies in diapers, and, of course, a good book. She resides in Noblesville, Indiana, with her husband, Marc, an engineer in the energy industry, and their ten children: five sons and five daughters, ages 15 years to 6 months old.

About Well-Read Mom

In Well-Read Mom, women read more and read well. Our hope is to deepen the awareness of meaning hidden in each woman’s daily life. We long to elevate the cultural conversation and revitalize reading literature from books. If you would like us to help you select worthy reading material, we invite you to join and read along. We are better together! For information on how to start or join a Well-Read Mom group visit our website wellreadmom.com