Meeting at the Well

It has already been about two and a half years since the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade with its decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, a stunning political victory for the pro-life movement. At the time of this reversal I was pregnant with my first child and living on a military base with my husband. We had joined the local parish out in town — one of only two parishes within a forty-minute drive from us — which was vibrant, filled with large families, and situated just outside of the base. I recall that in his homily the Sunday after Dobbs was announced, our pastor earnestly spoke of how now is the time more than ever to serve in the cause of the culture of life. There was a distinctly celebratory atmosphere throughout the parish, and indeed the Church at large, due to the news.

At the time of the Roe reversal, however, our parish offered little in terms of pro-life outreach. There were a few assistance programs and a prayer group, but nothing that seemed like it would be explicitly helpful for a woman who had just found out about an unplanned pregnancy. I found this troubling, being especially moved by the questions that understandably arose after the Dobbs decision: specifically, if a woman finds herself in a crisis pregnancy situation, what are you going to do to help her? What is the answer to the common critique that the pro-life movement wants nothing to do with mothers once their baby has been born? More practically, where can you direct a woman who needs love, support, and assistance in her most challenging hour? These are valid questions that I believe demand an active response from lay Catholics and parochial administrators alike.

Another question that came to mind was how would I, as a soon-to-be mother myself, helpfully serve in the pro-life community? As an unmarried adult I’d been able to volunteer at a crisis pregnancy center and attend prayer services outside of abortion clinics, but as soon as my baby came I knew that my ability to participate in these activities would be lessened. Indeed, one phone call to the local crisis pregnancy center reinforced this, as they didn’t allow children to attend with their parents as they volunteered. I tried to put myself in the shoes of a young woman experiencing an unplanned pregnancy, to try and imagine what would be needed, and began searching for resources in our area. The crisis pregnancy center did a lot of good, but most of their work revolved around the more practical elements of pregnancy, such as breastfeeding classes and free ultrasounds. They also provided things like diapers, wipes, and donated strollers to mothers who attended a certain number of class hours. There were a few government resources available on base that provided education and material resources, but as anyone who has had a baby will attest, free baby clothes and a borrowed stroller will only get you so far when you find yourself in the trenches of motherhood. There seemed to be nothing that would socially and emotionally support a woman in need.

After some consideration and prayer, my dear friend Avery and I decided that there needed to be some sort of social, community-based resource for young mothers, and since we were both mothers ourselves, it seemed fitting for us to work on this together, as we would be able to have our children with us as we worked.

Our stated goal was to be an educational and relational outreach to single, struggling, or at-risk mothers in our immediate community. The goal was to provide a social network for mothers in need, not simply to provide resources or serve as a conduit to government aid, but to walk with them in their journey, whatever that happened to look like. The plan was to meet weekly, to always provide dinner and childcare, and to bring in experts in various fields to help spark discussions and educate mothers on relevant topics. Most of all the hope was that, through the group, women would be able to organically grow in relationship with other mothers, their peers, and thus have a friendship-based support network, hopefully easing them through the hardest parts of the early years of motherhood.

An apostolate like this is of course not a new idea in the least, and may seem at first glance to be a reinvention of the wheel. Groups like La Leche League used to operate in a very similar way, and certainly many individual parishes may have something similar. Unfortunately the pandemic wiped out many such groups or transitioned them to being permanently online, and our area had nothing like this to speak of, online or otherwise.

Our parish was initially very helpful in the endeavor to launch the group. Our pastor gave us permission to make announcements after Masses several weekends in a row leading up to our first meeting and we were touched at the outpouring of support and generosity from the parishioners themselves. We asked for donations, subject matter experts who would be willing to volunteer an evening to offer a short presentation, volunteers to bring a meal either once or on a recurring basis, and childcare volunteers. We considered it paramount that the group be as personal and as casual as possible, and we gave out a lot of flyers with our phone numbers on them in case anyone had questions. The blurb on the pamphlet read:

Newly or unexpectedly pregnant? Overwhelmed with a new baby at home? Struggling with parenting? You are not alone! Find support, education, resources, and community alongside your fellow moms.

We had many people come up to us after our announcements at Mass inquiring about the group on behalf of sisters, daughters, or friends that they thought could really benefit from attending. Leading up to our first weekly meeting I was very hopeful, thinking that, after the thought and prayer that we had sunk into this concept, somehow the results would be instant, or that we would be able to provide immediate life-changing support and resources to someone in the throes of crisis and that we would actually be doing something tangible to add to the culture of life that I believe in so strongly.

How the group developed was, of course, different than how I’d envisioned it, and through the Lord’s goodness emerged as a wonderful resource for women in our community, despite a rocky start. The first several weeks nobody came. We had meals, we had childcare volunteers, and we had discussion topics — yet still, we sat alone in our parish’s small meeting center, and by the third week began to discuss if perhaps the need we thought there was such a need for was not as pressing as we had imagined. Not knowing what else to do, we kept showing up, and continued putting flyers all over town and on the Facebook page we’d created. Slowly, week by week, we were joined with more and more young women, nearly all from within the parish. Many sheepishly asked if they should come, citing that the flyers made it seem like perhaps they were not the intended demographic. This quickly made us realize that perhaps the people who wanted it most were the ones the Lord was calling to be in community with one another. Through the grace of God we were soon meeting with five, seven, sometimes even ten mothers every single week.

Within about six months, the core of the group ended up being mostly women from the parish, many of whom had more wisdom to offer and trials to bear than we could have imagined. I was touched by the thirst for community all these women had, and how committed many of them became immediately to incorporating our weekly meetings into their lives. It was humbling to meet other women who were willing to be vulnerable about their struggles and crosses in their walks of motherhood. Many of the mothers who frequently attended did not meet the criteria I’d imagined when we set out to create the ministry (in the sense of being in crisis or very unexpectedly pregnant) but nearly everyone had significant personal struggles and needs, as well as all the common trials and tribulations of motherhood — sleepless nights, financial hardship, moments of turbulence in their marriages and relationships. The reality is that all young mothers today face an incredibly atomized society, which in the case of this particular group of women was exacerbated by the fact that many of us were military spouses situated far from family and familiarity. We all were facing what Dorothy Day calls “the long loneliness” and we were beginning to see the fruit of her suggested solution, which “is love, and that love comes with community.” Our regular meetings and desire to be together created a feeling of solidarity and hope with each encounter.

What we found was that having this culture of love and community within the group provided a stable, positive environment for the women who eventually came to us from outside the parish, and those who were not Catholic or Christian. Several women joined us who were in more acutely challenging situations, and because the group now had a firm foundation we were able to provide meaningful social and emotional support for them in their moments of difficulty. What this looked like practically varied from situation to situation, but included organizing round the clock childcare during hospital stays, bringing meals and keeping postpartum women company, and most of all consisted of being present and reassuring in difficult moments.

Once the group had a regular attendance we began in earnest to host discussions led by experts. Some of our most popular presentations were on NFP, personal finance, the transition from one to two children, and breastfeeding. These discussions provided a lot of practical help for the group and members often would request presentations on various topics that they thought would be helpful. A practice that we began early on was the sharing of a high and low of the week, what we called roses and thorns. This provided an organizing medium in which each person could share, and was a good way for someone to bring up a vulnerable question or share a heavier burden if they felt called to do so.

Being involved in this group was not always easy, and as with any outreach was at times very emotionally taxing. Avery and I were not leading the group from any sort of professional or expert stance, but from the need for an organizing and moderating presence. This entailed purposeful checking in one on one with our friends in the group, organizing Meal Trains when people had their babies, and gently guiding the conversations when we were together to remain positive and productive. This sort of leadership is not something I am readily given to, and at times I felt as though every week was a sort of experiment in community building, but through trial, error, grace and everyone’s general desire to be together, the group continued to grow and many individual friendships were born out of it.

I was humbled time and again when I recalled how Avery and I had set out to create a ministry to help women in need, only to come to the realization that I had not known how lonely and thirsty for community I was as a new mother myself. This became especially evident in my life when I gave birth to my first son in November of 2022. It was a challenging delivery with a long recovery, and my husband deployed overseas the month afterward. This group carried me through the trials of that period with warmth, love, and constant support. I am grateful every day for the graces that the Lord brought to me through these women, the fruits of which I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

It was never clearer to me than after my own birth experience that even the sweetest free baby clothes or most helpful lactation classes pale in comparison to the actual needs I had after becoming a mother. I was scared, lonely, anxious, and withdrawn. No number of free diapers or wipes could do anything to quench the bitter thirst I had to be seen and to be known. The loneliness set in quickly and the answer was there, community.

It is easy to think that the systematic provision of material goods is enough to “fix” struggling members of society. Notably, this is the government’s mode of operation, and I think at times it is easy to slip into the belief as Catholics that we can operate in this way too: after all, it does feel good to know that an unexpectedly pregnant young woman can have as many diapers as she will need, isn’t it? It is even easier to pray for an unknown and distant woman in crisis; whoever she is, she has our prayers. And it is good to do these things. And yet, Christ met the woman at the well. He caressed the leper, spat in the eyes of the blind, wept at Lazarus’ tomb with his family and brought him back in love. He delved personally and intentionally into the suffering of his fellow man. True love and charity abide not in tidy boxes of donations stored for when they will be needed, but rather in tearful conversations and the consistent toil of presence which is a gift that no money can buy, no organization can manufacture. It is free to give and priceless to receive. This is what Avery and I learned over the course of our time in this community — that what we initially thought we could provide was nothing compared to what actually was needed, which is the constant love and support that only a friend, not a ministry, could offer.

We witnessed that the suffering of our sisters in Christ is not cut and dried. It is messy, it is complicated, and frankly it can be easier to look away. How many of us have dreaded seeing a friend who we know is going through a challenging time because we don’t know what to say, and don’t want to perceive her visceral grief or discomfort? Conversely, how often have we shied away from asking for help in order to not make our friends ill at ease? And yet this is exactly what we saw our friends needed the most, a consistent shoulder to cry on and a sister with whom to share the burdens of motherhood and marriage.

How much more Christian, more effective a ministry where the apostolate is love and the goal is not self-sufficiency but instead Christian sisterhood? This is not at all to say that ministries such as diaper drives or baby bottle campaigns are somehow malicious or useless. Material resources and monetary assistance can absolutely go a long way in improving the life of a young mother who finds herself in difficulty. But what became clear to us is that the provision of resources in this impersonal way is not enough to support a mother who is struggling to choose life. Services such as drive-up food banks or over-the-phone utilities assistance are helpful, but the implicit encouragement of anonymity may reinforce to a young mother that her need of help is somehow shameful and to be hidden, and that she must remain a societal “other” instead of being loved as herself, as a mother and a daughter of Christ. Thus the answer to the question that haunted me as the Dobbs decision was handed down has been brought more into focus, more so each day that I live as a young mother: what are you going to do to help her? You must love her.

Once the group had been going for some time, Avery and I did begin to receive the messages that we assumed would eventually come, people inquiring about the group who would tend to fit into what I assumed “crisis pregnancy” looked like — teen moms in precarious relationships, single working women with not a shred of family or community to help raise their children, and coordinators from other programs asking about our group, wanting to recommend it to mothers that they worked with. This is where the firm base of friendship and community was able to support and welcome those who came later to the group. Some of these women came once or twice, some popped in and out as they were able, and some never returned. But what we were able to offer them was a safe place and a village to rest in for as long as they needed.

Unfortunately, we found that as the group continued to grow, support from our parish gradually waned. The first big challenge we encountered was maintaining a roster of volunteers to provide childcare, which was a facet of the group we believed to be crucial. Babies in arms always stayed with their mothers, but many of the women had toddlers or older children who couldn’t sit still through a presentation, and furthermore the subject matter of group discussions was not always appropriate for children who had reached the age of understanding. There also was a lack of support for this group at the parochial administrative level, even though the pastor did periodically check in on us and offer an encouraging word. At length we outgrew the only space that the parish was willing to let us meet in, and so we moved to meeting in someone’s home each week and doing a potluck meal.

Because of this, the substance of the meetings sometimes changed and we had fewer and fewer presentations, but overall there was still much fruit from our discussions and time together. A highlight of our second year of meeting was that one of our dear friends who had been with the group since almost the beginning came into the Church with her three little ones. While we were overjoyed at how vibrant and beneficial the group had become for so many women, the lack of support from the parish was disappointing. When it came down to it, we felt as though there was no recognition of the efficacy of the outreach nor of the beautiful fruits (i.e. four baptisms in one year!) that were coming from it. This coupled with the need to meet in child-friendly spaces made our move to meeting weekly in someone’s home a good solution, and our ties with the parish further dimmed, though the vast majority of us were parishioners.

Two years into our time with the group, my husband got orders back to the Midwest, and Avery and her husband relocated to New England. Leaving this group of dear friends was an incredibly hard thing for both of us to do, but it was beautiful to see how a few of our friends who had been with us the longest stepped up immediately as new leaders to carry the group forward. Avery and I were able to sit down before parting ways earlier this summer and reflect on the growth of this community. We reviewed what had worked and what didn’t, as well as noting down basic practices that we both believe would make this apostolate easily replicable and of huge benefit to any parish:

• First and foremost, the group functioned well with two leaders who are mothers themselves, who have reasonable availability and organizational capabilities, as well as supportive spouses. Relational ministry can be emotionally taxing, but we found that the fruits of consistency and constancy from those who are facilitating made all the difference in the creation of the positive group dynamic we sought to cultivate. Meeting once a week provided an anchor for many women in their day to day rhythm, and though at first this was quite tiring for those organizing, once there was a solid attendance it was simply a joy to know that once a week a lovely conversation and shared meal with friends could be counted upon.
• Also indispensable is a good meeting space. Especially in the early days of the apostolate we found that hosting in a neutral location such as our parish’s outreach center seemed to be more accessible for women attending for the first time — it is understandably daunting to be invited to a group that is meeting in someone’s home, and we didn’t want there to be any impediment to someone who was wanting to attend for the first time. This space needs a separate area that is child-proof and can accommodate both older and younger children.
• Childcare volunteers are key. Our parish did not have a space that readily lent itself to meeting with children and our volunteers were few to begin with, but when we were able to have the older children with trusted helpers (all of whom had completed the diocesan safe environment training) the moms were able to engage with the presentations and really enter into vulnerable and fruitful conversations. The reality is that most mothers do not have ready sources of relief from the constant task of childcare, and will find it hard to attend any activity unless this need is met. It is also a huge gift to a mother to eat a dinner that she herself did not have to prepare in any way, and so having a meal brought in by someone was always extra helpful.
• Finally, a key element for the success of a group like this would be support from the parish itself, as well as guidance from the pastor or associate. While we were blessed from the beginning to have the permission from our pastor, we struggled with the bureaucratic nature of our parish’s administration. Any ministry needs basic access to parish publicity (online and in the bulletin), permission to use parish spaces with the understanding that children (always accompanied by their parents) will be present, and if possible, minimal financial support for speakers’ offerings, supplies such as paper plates and napkins, and reimbursement for photocopies. Another very helpful contribution that a parish can provide is helping to solicit and organize volunteers.

Beyond this I believe that the women who need it will come, and the Lord will provide His grace: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:20). In our parish and in the time that I was blessed enough to be a part of it, this apostolate became the beginning to the answer of the question we all must consider as members of the pro-life movement: What are you going to do to help her? 

As Catholics we are all called to live in the culture of life. We are called to pray for the unborn and for women in crisis, to be active voters in line with our beliefs, and to tithe appropriately to our station. But all of this amounts to very little if we do not emulate our Lord and meet our sister at the well, hold her hand and look into her eyes. A thoughtful structure to facilitate this meeting is necessary, but once that introduction has been made, she is Christ to you and you are Christ to her. A woman supported by a loving community will be able to more fully embrace her vocation as mother, and like the woman who met Christ, she will be able to go forth from the well knowing that she is loved and known, to bring the living water home to her children.