When I was a girl, my grandmother used to buy me the most beautiful books. I’d sit and study them. I’d weave myself into their magical illustrations and storylines—the heroes within, the longings of main characters, the mythical power of nature’s forces—and I’d get lost in the rhythm of beginning, middle, and end. I’d imagine I was within these stories, learning alongside the women I’d read about who were romantic and full of desire and longing.
There is a story I read, one of my favorites, about two sisters. They adventure together to break a sorcerer’s spell and rescue a prince who’s been locked in a seashell prison. He has asked for their help. One of the sisters helps from the goodness of her heart, and the other because she hopes someday to be queen. I always admired the sister who was simple, good, and kind. Along the way, she lends her aid to the animals and creatures that cross their path. One of these is a small seabird who has been injured while fighting a much larger bird over fish. The injured bird falls into the sisters’ boat, and the good sister quickly binds the bird’s bloodstained wing with her mother’s precious lace handkerchief.
They continue on their journey until they finally reach the place the spell can be broken—a magical emerald green lagoon. Suddenly they’re faced with a monstrous sea creature who erupts out of the water intent on crushing the prince’s shell in its rows of sharp teeth. Then, the small seabird appears, “holding the handkerchief, the lace again as bright as new snow.” It flies over the monster, dropping it on its back, and as the sisters watch, the bit of cloth transforms into a huge net, entangling the beast and sinking it beneath the surface of the water.
For years this story has stayed with me, growing with me as stories do. But until today, it never occurred to me the magnificence of the mother’s precious handkerchief—the heartbreaking significance of a girl who would wrap a living thing, bleeding and wounded, with her mother’s gift. I don’t write these words from a place of understanding the full blessing of a mother’s gift. I have spent years of my life untangling the wretched “gifts” my mother gave me. But I have been fortunate to have been touched by the lives of some deeply good mothers. It is through their influence that I have come to know God as mother and my own body as a sacred place for brokenness and meaning-making.
I have known the painstaking process of being mended and made whole.
Recently I walked the path of miscarriage. I was fortunate to have been in the home of my mother-in-law, who, like the girl in the story, is simple, good, and kind. In her house I found a place of refuge for my broken womb. I fell into her embrace with softness and vulnerability, knowing she would wrap me in her own story of loss and hold me in my bleeding.
The transformation of the mother’s precious handkerchief into a net of protection from a monster intent on destruction speaks to me of a deeper story…one that continues to play out mysteriously in the world around us. Wrought by the Great Mother, we have been invited into the Great Mending—wrapping brokenness with precious scraps of goodness, holding hope for restoration and beauty to be found even in the darkest of stories, and trusting that eventually we will see evil broken and destroyed.
May we continue mending in small ways and big ways, whether we have little or much to give. May we be met by surprises of restoration and freedom. May we know the peace that comes from being wrapped tenderly in love by someone who sees our pain and offers her own method of mending to meet our need. And may we offer our own handkerchiefs to the bleeding world around us.
Emily Houghton is a newly inspired writer and simple meaning-maker. She has found inspiration from all the writers on Red Tent Living and is grateful to be connected to other humans through curiosity and storytelling. She currently lives in sunny California, although she’s dreaming of the moody Pacific Northwest with every day that goes by. Emily invites you to follow along on her writing journey and her corner of the world here.
Dear Emily, your beautiful voice in this space offers so much goodness. Thank you for sharing your gift with us. Christine