Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?: “Mothering” of a Different Kind


Becca Lachman

Guest post from…Becca J.R. Lachman lives with her husband Michael in Athens, Ohio, where she teaches, tutors, and writes. Her first book of poetry, The Apple Speaks, is dedicated “to humanitarian workers around the globe, but more for the families who love them.” She muses about the writing life and living simply at To hear Becca read poems and discuss writing, check out this WOUB radio interview.

Do me a favor:  Imagine you’ve been asked to tell your mother’s life story. In public. In front of your family.  Your community will be there–your ancestors, too. What stories would you choose to tell? And which influences, memories, or emotions might steer your tongue?

Being a creative writer, I often ask myself these same tough questions. Sorting through complex answers helps me to write what matters, what needs to be said simply because of beauty or music or truth (I make it sound rather easy here, but if you’re a writer, you know that it’s anything but.)

One writing exercise I return to involves imagining a long banquet table surrounded by the people or events that have shaped my sense of self and, most importantly, my public voice. Sometimes, the guests around this “inner writer’s table” surprise me with their presence: my 7-year-old-self, my high school boy friend, my strict great-great grandma I never met. Other times, they’re expected, even cliché: my seemingly perfect father, or my martyred religious ancestors with tongue screws still intact.

In order to write the truth (note: not necessarily the same thing as fact), I “excuse” certain guests from my inner table, then decide who sits at the head. This inner rearranging of place settings, if you will, can shape how–and why–my stories are told.
Over the past few months, I’ve been traveling to promote my first collection of poetry. But the real goal of this self-planned book tour

Participants at a Creative Mothering workshop

is to encourage others (particularly women influenced by Mennonite Church USA) to realize the strength of their stories, and to share that truth–as Emily Dickinson puts it, to “tell it slant.” Having the courage to tell our version of a story, even our own, takes ongoing encouragement and hutzpah.

So wherever I go to share my own stories through poetry and song, I also offer free storytelling/poetry writing workshops for intergenerational women. I’m calling these gatherings “Creative (M)othering” workshops, not because I’m an expert on parenting (I don’t have children, may never have children) but because there are other, alternative ways of mothering, perhaps just as important to Anabaptist faith and culture and to new generations of feminists.

I believe that sharing our stories is a powerful form of creative mothering  (what I define as the long-term act of affirming and mentoring one another’s originality and truth).  As a writer, friend, wife, sister, daughter, and stumbling Anabaptist, it’s very important to me that mothering can also mean “to nurture, to author, or to protect” ( If I do have a child one day, I will teach him/her this with both my words and actions.

One reason I’ve been collecting stories is to nurture the Women in Leadership project within Mennonite Church USA. “Mennonite Monologues,” the project focus group I’m a part of, hopes to eventually collect diverse experiences for an anthology or worship resource. But at its most basic level, it simply asks Mennonite women of all ages to take the time to share their life experiences:

“As Mennonite women, we believe it is important for women in the church to share their stories, not only to value individual experience, but also to strengthen and transform communities. Historically, due to explicit and implicit patriarchy in the Christian church, women have been silenced and their stories devalued. We believe this historic reality is still present, keeping women from experiencing the freedom of full expression in their church community. We believe that our church, the Mennonite church, with its commitment to the priesthood of all believers, can honor the stories of women as a step away from patriarchy.” (excerpt from “Mennonite Monologues” mission statement draft)

At a recent poetry reading in Orrville, Ohio, a confident 20-something man introduced himself to me as “a Mennonite feminist.” His public declaration made my entire week. (It also reminded me that men of all ages need opportunities to share their stories, too.)

“I will tell you something about stories,” writes novelist Leslie Marmon Silko. “They aren’t just entertainment. Don’t be fooled. They are all we have, you see, all we have to fight off illness and death.” As I’ve led Creative (M)othering workshops, I’ve been inspired, challenged, and changed by the stories shared and the questions raised. I’ve giggled and cried with strangers. I’ve found the community I’d always been hoping to find in Mennonite circles. And I’ve set new places at my “inner writer’s table.”

Want to share your stories with the Women in Leadership project? Contact Becca at for more info.


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