Redefining Maternal Energy: A Broader View of Mother’s Day

I give love freely. (Sometimes not patiently.)

I want the best for my family. (Even when my way doesn’t align with theirs.)

I want them to know I have their backs—that I will support them, love them, and gently challenge them in ways that help build their internal knowing and connection to how they want to show up in this world.

Will we always like one another? No.

Will we always love one another? Yes.

Both can exist at the same time.

As mid-May arrives, the calendar reminds us to celebrate and honor Mother’s Day. I also recognize that not everyone has experienced a healthy or nurturing version of maternal energy.

So I offer a different way to sit with this energy. Consider this an invitation to reflect—to sit with a broader definition of “mother” and explore how maternal energy shows up in your life.

An Invitation to Reflect on Maternal Presence

• Who is (or was) a maternal presence in your life—someone who loved you unconditionally, supported you, guided you, and set caring limits?
• What do you remember most about them?
• What impact did they have on you—something you carry forward, or perhaps something you’ve chosen to do differently?
• How do you express love and care for the people in your life?
• And how do you offer yourself grace, compassion, and self-honoring?

Choosing a Path of Care and Compassion

We have choices.

We can continue what we’ve received, or we can choose something different.

So I invite you to define maternal energy in a way that feels nurturing, safe, and aligned with what you need right now. Ground yourself in this truth: whether you received it or not, you are worthy of it.

You are worthy of being seen, loved, held safely, cherished, protected, celebrated, and encouraged—not for what you do, but for who you are.

Your existence is enough. And it matters.

The Liminal Space: A Note on the Window Seat

A small, personal note: the photo for this post was taken on a trip to Austria with my mom to visit family. As a child, I was fascinated by the time change—watching out the airplane window as darkness shifted into light. I loved that liminal space, that in-between moment filled with quiet mystery.

Now, as a parent, I offer the window seat to my kids. On that trip, my mom gave me that gift again—letting me sit by the window.

Some forms of care stay with us. And sometimes, they find their way back.

An Invitation for You

Find a small way to "give yourself the window seat." How can you offer yourself a moment of grace or a gesture of care today?

If you find yourself needing support in navigating these liminal spaces or healing your inner child, reach out to me here.