As I somewhat reluctantly honored the persistent press of the calendar and methodically boxed up the final trappings of Christmas decorations this month, I lingered on my favorite nativity set. I had saved that front entry December focal point until last. One by one, I carefully placed those surprisingly ornate figurines in their Styrofoam containers for safe keeping until next year. They had been an unlikely purchase from Costco decades ago, but, in spite of a few tattered wise men’s robes and broken angel wings, they remain precious to our family still.
Last to be put away was Mary – kneeling, wrapped in a pale blue shawl, head bowed making her look pensive and reverent. Among the traditional nativity characters, Mary has always been the one that has most profoundly spoken to me personally. I suspect that depth of intuitive, personal connection with her and the part she played in the blessed story among stories is a girl thing – a mother thing. As a result of personal lived experience, I and millions of other women like me, know what it feels like to be a woman and a mother. And I know what it feels like to be pregnant, to endure childbirth, to hold a tiny baby freshly arrived from heaven.
Not eager to rush the putting away, I allowed myself to linger with that important figurine in my hand while I reflected nostalgically on two Decembers I spent “great with child.” Two of our babies were born early January, which means that I spent two months of Christmas celebrations wearing black velvet moo moos to holiday parties and elevating my feet whenever possible. Certainly, I didn’t endure a long journey on the back of a donkey or lay my babies in a makeshift manger bed, but in a very small mortal way, because of my physical labor and delivery, I feel an extra measure of compassion for Mary and an extra admiration and awe for her endurance and patient courage. And I feel an extra measure of gratitude for the ineffable wonder of pregnancy and childbirth and the miraculous privilege of playing such an intimate part in the miracle of it.
I worry that we women are too often influenced by contemporary narratives that frame the realities of our bodies, and the implications of our birthright as hardships as much as wondrous blessings. That small figurine of Mary and those moments of reflection provided me a renewed opportunity to ponder with inexpressible gratitude the blessing it is to be a woman. I am unspeakably grateful to have been invited, as a result of my gender, to have served as a very visceral partner with God as some of His children have grown within me and then been delivered to mortality through my body. That partnership is a holy gift. I so hope that my daughters and granddaughters and all young women see womanhood as something precious to look forward to with reverent anticipation, not something to dread or even just endure. Not all women can give birth, and pregnancy and childbearing and rearing are challenging, arduous, and tremendously demanding. But more than a hardship, childbearing is a form of tremendous strength and a truly blessed privilege – even a sacred interaction with God.
I remember with holy clarity the first flutter of life within me just weeks after I had conceived each child. That flutter grew almost imperceptibly to become unmistakable small movements, then unexpected and even dramatic kicks and pokes. It was all often uncomfortable, but always awesome in the most sacred sense of the word.
Now decades later, my daughters have become mothers and have daughters and sons of their own. The exquisite marvel of the heavenly process persists from generation to generation as it is discovered anew by each expectant mother.
The holy regard and gratitude for the wonder I feel for it all is well expressed in a song entitled, “The Story Goes On,” from the Broadway musical, “Baby” by David Shire and Richard Maltby, jr.
“So this is the tale my mother told me
That tale that was much too dull to hold me
And this is the surge and the rush
She said would show our story goes on
Oh, I was young, I forgot that things outlive me
My goal was the kick that life would give me
And now like a joke something moves to let me know
Our story goes on
And all these things I feel and more
My mother’s mother felt and hers before
A chain of life begun upon the shore
Of some dark sea
Has reached to me
And now, I can see the chain extending
My child is next in a line that has no ending
And here am I full of life that her child will feel
When I’m long gone
And thus it is our story goes on
And on, and on, and on, and on
Yes, all that was is part of me
As I am part of what’s to be
And thus it is our story goes on.”
Being a woman includes other birthright gifts that are less graphic than childbearing, but nonetheless powerful and marvelous.
Recently I watched with admiration and wonder as one of the subsequent little girls born to our family assumed her role in the line of women with the implicit birthright gifts of her gender. Her younger sister was born with spina bifida and, as a result, works harder than others to do some things most do without thought, like run and skip.
Inadvertently, the older sister proposed a chasing game that involved jumping from one type of tile to another. The younger sister eagerly agreed to play the game, but found the distances from one tile to the next were impossible for her to navigate. Defeated, she sadly dropped out of the game. Watching her little sister walk off the floor, the thoughtful big sister promptly left the game and made her way to her little sister’s side. Intuitively, she began gently stroking her little sister’s hair while she whispered a proposal for a new game – one that would be realistic for them both. The younger sister immediately perked up with enthusiastic interest. The redefined game resumed.
That older sister was informed and motivated by an innate ability to see, care about, and attend to another’s need. Some would call that superpower of observation “women’s intuition.” The magazine Psychology Today suggests that “women’s intuition is a term used to describe a woman’s ability to intuitively understand or sense things without relying on logical reasoning or evidence. The phrase is often used to describe a woman’s ability to pick up on subtle emotional cues or anticipate potential problems before they occur.”
Psychology Today continues, “Women’s brains are optimized for rapid, intuitive decision-making. Women often tend to be psychologically more in touch with their emotions and are more likely to integrate hunches and emotional intuitions about people with the functions of logic.” (“The Neuroscience of Women’s Intuition,” by Judith Orloff, M.D., Psychology Today, August 12, 2024). A superpower indeed. Women have all felt it, and women and men alike have all seen it in action and been blessed by it.
My husband grew up in a family of four boys with no sisters. His elegant, loving mother was a product of her reserved generation, as well as having had a penchant for personal privacy. As a result, she was assiduously discreet about what she shared about the details of her personal struggles and experiences. After her husband had passed away, we had the sweet pleasure of enjoying her company almost daily when she moved just up the street from our home. I delighted in outings with that charming lady several times a week.
Before long, as the strength of our girl-to-girl friendship deepened, she began sharing with me details of her past. She was eager to tell me stories about her childhood, her friends, her disappointments and successes – all the things girls are commonly so eager to entrust with each other. Unless something was confidential, I often shared the precious stories she had told me with my husband, her oldest son. He was regularly astonished by what he heard. He often exclaimed, “I have known my mother for decades and I have never known that!” That spontaneous inclination to connect is an almost universal girl thing that feels like a blessed gift. I was honored to be that girlfriend for my mother-in-law as we two adult women simply and spontaneously loved each other. I am convinced that female hormones are especially conducive to bonding and sensitivity. A gift.
The truth about embracing and enjoying being a girl is nuanced, profound, and sacred, and the implicit gifts of the identity are broad and blessed. The eternal birthright is precious – an identity to be delighted in with gratitude and awe. Like Mary, I feel a holy appreciation for my feminine identity and all that implies. I pray that I and all the little girls to come will humbly give thanks that we were born female. May we women all “keep these things and ponder them (gratefully) in our hearts.” -Luke 2:19.
Heidi SJanuary 18, 2025
What is a woman? This piece adds nuance and thoughtfulness to the physical and emotional gifts specific to women and mothers. Thank you for your beautiful prose, which is more like poetry.
Clari SmithJanuary 18, 2025
A beautiful article that I totally believe and live. Thank you for an exquisite gift in writing these sentiments.