Happy Mother’s
Day Friend.
Oh how I
have missed you! Are you well caffeinated? How is your heart today? I ask because Mother’s Day can be rough. Like many holidays, the Hallmark card misses
many of the real heart issues behind the calendar event. I was
praying for you last night. Trying to
post on any special day is a bit of a nightmare, because inevitably I will
say something stupid that might upset you.
By the time I fell asleep, I was hoping that the start to your day would
be a good one. That somehow, by God’s
grace, you wouldn't feel alone on a day that is intended to bless.
I have been
on the phone a lot this week. In fact,
by the time Friday hit I was utterly unfit for human interaction. Too much talking and not enough prayer or
sleep caught up with me. I sniffled my
way through the better part of the afternoon until my husband came home, made
me tea and then insisted I have a nap.
He is a wise man. The point is, there is a lot going on in the world of
motherhood. It isn’t a place for
cowards. Maybe it would help if I shared
what Mother’s Day looks like for some of the wonderful people in my world.
My first
interaction this morning was with a darling cookie of a woman who has just come
back from an extended time away. She
flew into town only to realize her family had come into contact with some evil
form of stomach virus on the flight home.
In the early morning hours, her husband (chief chef of mother’s day)
became ill. She was last sighted in her
kitchen, feeding her children, wandering in circles, tending to her man, with
no sign of celebration on the horizon. Motherhood
involves trenches.
Another call
last weekend had me speaking with a favorite person in my world. At 46, she has been happily married to a
lovely man for decades although they have never had children. That is until God pulled a fast one and
blessed her with an unexpected gift.
Later this year, at the age of 47, she will become a mother for the
first time. Talk about an unexpected
turn of events. Motherhood leads us into
new territory.
One of my
closest friends had me rethinking motherhood two months ago. Every six months or so, I go out with two
friends for dinner. We share food, fun
and get the Spark notes on each other’s spiritual lives. We consume chocolate, salt and laughter. While navigating roads in the U district, my
friend exclaimed, “Oh, look! You guys
can see the building where I was inseminated.”
I would have said something, but my jaw had gotten lost somewhere on the
floor in the back of the car. This
darling heart waited 13 years to have children.
Turning to alternate methods, she now is the mother of a beautiful
family. It is safe to say, that the
memories she holds of getting pregnant are radically different than mine. There are different roads to motherhood my
friend and not all of them are laced with daisies.
The beach is
the first place my friend “Tina” goes on mother’s day. She gets up early and sneaks out of the
house. At the beach, she walks and
prays. It is an annual pilgrimage. There,
under grey skies, the cold waters of the Sound wash away poisonous childhood
memories. Every year she chooses to be
thankful and every year she adds beautiful new memories to the word
Mother. She sneaks back into the house a
couple hours later, and waits in bed until a pajama clad little brings her
coffee and burnt toast.
The most
somber thoughts I had this week revolved around a woman who successfully
invested in her family her entire life.
My thoughts branched from there, to the many mothers who are now in
their seventies, eighties and nineties. As
end of life issues present themselves, we are overcome with emotions and
memories that span lifetimes. How can
you possibly thank someone for pouring their life in yours? How do you quantify the tears, heartache and
dedication it takes to raise a child?
More than that, how do you possibly begin to appreciate the discipline
of denying self in order to invest in another’s life?
Thankfulness
is my first guess: gratitude and thankfulness.
My own Mummy raised 6 children and I have no memories of her grumbling
as much as I do. Which brings us to one of the defining
characteristics of great mothers. Great
mothers love. They teach us how to love,
to serve and to live. There is so much
for which to be thankful.
Love is patient and kind; love does
not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own
way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but
rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all
things, endures all things. Love never ends... so now faith, hope and love abide, these three: but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7,13
I am praying
for you today my friend. I don’t know if
you are on the mountain or in the valley, but I pray that God’s love will find
you there.
xoxK
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