motherhood

Remember Holidays with Your Mother?

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Dr. Martha talks about holidays with family throughout her life in Catholic Daughters of Catholic Mothers.

The word Lent has multiple meanings, and somehow it came to mean the forty days before Easter Sunday beginning on Ash Wednesday. One explanation is that the 40 days represent the 40 days and 40 nights that Jesus Christ spent fasting in the desert. There was also this tradition—the only word I can think to describe it because it wasn’t a rule—of giving up something for Lent. It was supposed to be a sacrifice: an offering from me to God in exchange for blessings or grace. We Catholics always wanted more grace. I seem to have some vague memory that having enough grace was a way to cancel out the bad stuff and save one from Hell. Another possibility was that our giving up something may have been because Christ fasted for 40 days and 40 nights, and therefore you could give up one thing for 40 days. The sacrifice was in giving up something that you value. You don’t give up spinach or finishing homework. Kids would give up candy or soda or maybe watching their favorite TV show during Lent. These days, I suppose kids could give up using electronics. As my children got older, I suggested that rather than giving up something—which usually was pretty silly anyway—that they would give something. They could volunteer somewhere or give away the things that they no longer needed or wanted. It made more sense to me to help the community.

Interesting, over the years, how much of the religion has been removed from the major Catholic holidays. At least for us “ambiguous Catholics.” I still put up a manger scene at Christmas and have given all my grandchildren some form of manger or birth of Christ storybook at one time or another. But for Easter, it’s been all about the fun of egg dyeing and Easter baskets. My bad. I’m not alone in this though. Easter parades, Easter eggs, Easter candy, all the fun stuff have been around since the 1700s. Here’s a little-known factoid about Easter candy that I’ve learned over the years while teaching Chinese medicine in Turkey. It turns out that jellybeans, some say, have their origin all the way back to a Biblical version of Turkish Delight.

Dr. Martha Shares How Motherhood Has Changed Over the Last 50+ Years

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In Catholic Daughters of Catholic Mothers, Dr. Martha discusses 4 generations of motherhood.

But I wish they had lived longer. I have bunches of patients who are my age and whose parents are alive, or at least one is alive. I envy that. I tell people that my parents died young because I do think that 76 and 77 are young. Too young to be dead. I have a four-generation picture of my mother’s mother, my mother, me, and my daughter Audrey. I had always imagined that I would be in another four-generation picture. It would be my mother, me, one of my children, and their child—my grandchild. But Mom didn’t make it long enough for that to happen. My hope is to still have a four-generation picture. This one will be of me, my child, their child, and my grandchild’s child. Yep, planning to be a great-grandmother!

The Fun Parts of Motherhood: Naming Babies and More

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Dr. Martha Lucas has an interesting story about how she was named. This and much more from her on being a baby in her Catholic Daughters of Catholic Mothers book about life as a Catholic woman in the 60s, 70, and beyond.

They named me after Saint Martha, the patron saint of housewives, servants, and cooks. Catholics turn to her when dealing with chronic stress and doubt. Martha was a worker, keeping everybody fed and dressed in clean clothes, while her sister Mary had chosen “the good portion.” What’s meant by this old saying is that Mary was concerned with more spiritual things. She was the sister who spent countless hours conversing with Jesus almost to the exclusion of practical and domestic matters that were more suitable burdens for Martha.

During my birth, my mother suffered through a very long and hard labor—I obviously didn’t want to come out. A priest even gave her the last rites. My mother and father decided that if she lived and the child lived, and it was a girl, the child would be named Martha. A boy would be named John Jr., which was already a given. Well, it was me… Martha Lucas. It’s the name they gave me and the name I’ve kept. Admittedly, I’ve changed it due to marriage even though the man to whom I am married now has the opinion, “why would you take my name? I don’t own you. You are not my property.”