The Beauty of Lady Chanticleers
Oscar Wilde once jokingly observed that “women are meant to be loved, not understood.” There’s probably a fair bit of truth to that, especially in marriage and romantic relationships: where miscommunication abounds, love should abound all the more.
But of course Wilde can’t be entirely right, because everyone longs to be known and understood; it’s simply part and parcel of our humanity. Fortunately, God created friendship. Life is sweeter and more complete when women find friends with whom they connect, especially other women. At its best, female-to-female companionship offers two hallmarks of genuine relationship that can’t be found anywhere else in quite the same way: guidance and solidarity.
One of my closest friends recently described the life-cycle of a woman as “maiden, mother, matriarch.” That was not to minimize our contributions as professionals, athletes, artists, and the like; she didn’t intend to reduce feminine identity to our place within home and family life. It was offered as a tribute to womanhood, and I received it as such. In fact, I found great solace in the depiction, because it reminded me that life is a journey along a well-trodden path women have been walking for millenia.
For my part, my oldest children are in or nearly done with college, and as I begin to dip my toes in matriarch waters, I’m grateful for experienced friends who mentor me through the joys and trials of parenting adults whose lives are on the brink of take-off. “Do you ever offer unsolicited relationship and career advice?” “Is it okay to seek their advice sometimes, or does that put too much pressure on them?” “How candid should you get about your own past mistakes and stupid decisions?” “How much does it really cost to turn the backyard into a wedding reception venue?” “Do you let them see you cry when they excitedly tell you about their future plans and you realize they’re not coming back to New Jersey?”
I’m also grateful for the contemporaries in my boat with whom I can share ups and downs in real time. When my daughter fell sick at age 18 with a potentially life-threatening illness and my role in her life was rightly but suddenly downgraded from “decision-maker” to “advisor-without-actual-authority,” I barely had to say anything to my friends who were facing similar relegation - they knew how the trepidation felt. And when she fought through into recovery and a slew of significant personal achievements, I barely had to say anything - they knew how the triumph felt too.
It seems to me that transitioning into matriarch is a weird and wonderful process of leaning back, even as the parent/child bond solidifies, strengthens, and expands down through generations. Motherhood, by contrast, is a season of leaning in: a time during which guidance and solidarity are all the more crucial. I think this is something the Our Lady of Mount Carmel community gets particularly right. Women are constantly creating meal-trains for each other to ease the challenges of a new baby or a recent move. Through group chats, private messages, and good old-fashioned face-to-face conversation, they participate in a steady stream of Q&A that tackles everything from the very pragmatic (“best orthodontist in the area?”) to the very foundational (“I’m drowning in postpartum depression - can anyone help me?”). And they pray for one another: they call on St. Michael, they cling to the Blessed Mother, they look to the cross, they offer it at Mass. Through it all, from the daily grind to the daily bread, there is a deep sense of unity and charity.
I’m not nearly done with the “mother” phase yet, and I don’t have anywhere close to all the answers (seriously don’t know what to do about the fact that my youngest is having a love/hate relationship with preschool). But I’ve been at this mom thing long enough by now to recognize the special beauty of OLMC’s culture. Not only is it a great blessing for women as they encounter all that this season of life has to offer, it’s fantastic inspiration for our daughters. God willing, many of them will enjoy their own “maiden, mother, matriarch” journeys someday. Our example can teach them that they need not walk it alone: with the right friends and a loving community, they will be both loved and understood as they make their way.
Johanna Webber volunteers as the Director of Communications & Marketing for OLMC School. She and her husband, Assemblyman Jay Webber, live with their family in Morris Plains, NJ.