Sometimes I think about women 100 years ago.
Not in a romanticized way. I know life was harder in many ways. But I still find myself wondering what gathering looked like for mothers back then.
Did they organize “play dates”?
Did they spend so much time coordinating schedules and social calendars for their children?
Did they feel pressure to socialize themselves in carefully curated ways?
Or did life simply happen more naturally around shared homes, shared meals, shared worship, shared work, and family life?
I’ve been thinking about this because something small happened recently that unsettled me more than I expected.
Another mom and I had made plans for our children to spend time together. But when the moment came, the plans shifted in a confusing way, and suddenly it seemed like the arrangement we had discussed no longer existed.
No one was cruel. Nothing dramatic happened. But I froze.
Partly because I was caught off guard, and partly because I genuinely didn’t know how to handle the situation in the moment.
My child got in the car upset because she had remembered the original plan and had been excited about it. And honestly, my heart broke a little watching her disappointment.
I found myself frustrated with myself afterward—not because plans changed, but because the whole interaction felt strangely complicated for something that should have been simple.
And it made me wonder if modern social life, especially among mothers, sometimes asks us to override instincts we naturally have.
Not instincts rooted in fear or selfishness—but in closeness.
Because if I’m honest, I don’t naturally enjoy my children being gone for long periods of time. I don’t love sleepovers. I don’t particularly enjoy the constant passing around of children between homes and schedules and social obligations.
And maybe that makes me unusual.
Or maybe many women quietly feel the same way but assume they shouldn’t.
Sometimes I wonder if situations like this arise because, deep down, mothers are meant to keep their children close to them more often than modern culture encourages.
Not because we don’t love other children.
Not because we distrust one another.
But simply because mothers were designed to be near their children.
And maybe we’ve normalized so much separation that women feel strange for wanting closeness instead.
I think about this in my own life too.
Socializing with other women has never come naturally to me in the way it seems to for some people.
I can gather around purpose very easily. I can help organize a church event, volunteer, coordinate a fundraiser, host a gathering, work alongside women toward something meaningful, and feel completely comfortable doing it.
But socializing simply for the sake of socializing often feels unnatural to me.
Dinner parties.
Girls’ weekends.
Spa trips.
When someone says, “We should plan a weekend away,” my first feeling usually isn’t excitement.
It’s panic.
Not because I dislike people. And not because I don’t occasionally need rest.
But because my mind immediately goes to my family.
Will the children eat properly?
Will everyone get where they need to be on time?
Will things feel unsettled while I’m gone?
Those things matter to me deeply because I believe they are part of what God entrusted me with as a mother.
My husband and I care for our family differently, but both roles matter. His responsibilities often look different than mine, while much of my role is lived out in the daily steadiness of home life—the constant, boots-on-the-ground work of caring for the people God gave us.
And if I’m honest, another part of this that exhausts me is the emotional weight that seems to follow modern socializing.
Leaving a gathering and replaying everything afterward.
Did I talk too much?
Was I too quiet?
Too reserved?
Too overwhelming?
Did I say something wrong?
Did I offend someone without realizing it?
It can feel like so much pressure for interactions that are supposed to create connection.
Sometimes I leave feeling more drained than filled.
And maybe that’s part of why I keep wondering if we’ve complicated gathering beyond what it was meant to be.
I do believe we were created for gathering.
But I also believe God designed much of that gathering to happen naturally through family, shared work, shared meals, shared worship, and daily life together.
And sometimes I wonder if we’ve drifted so far from that design that even connection itself has started to feel exhausting.
I think we were meant to gather. I’m just not convinced we were meant to gather like this.