It’s Mother’s Day Eve and yes, I know that’s not really a day. Humor me.
Since losing my own mom a little over a year and a half ago, Mother’s Day has become a real struggle for me. I don’t want to celebrate but as my husband so succinctly put it, “But your children do. They want to tell you they love you. Get over it.” But in reflecting on Mother’s Day and all of it’s prickly parts, I started to think about women who aren’t mothers in a biological sense. Below is my take on Mother’s Day which will now be – for me anyway – day for all women who pour into the lives of the people around them.
All my love Lady Warriors! You are phenomenal!
A Mom’s take on Mother’s Day
You think it falls on one happy Sunday in May don’t you?
Let’s get real. It really starts the Thursday before when Dad says, “So what do you want to do for Mother’s Day?” And Mom starts making the plan for the family. What will we do for lunch? Do we have those groceries or do I need to pick them up at the store this weekend? A reservation for brunch at this point is out of the question because, well…we have 3 days and it’s been booked since March when the Moms who were on top of it planned for their own mothers.
And let’s talk about Sunday morning, shall we?
Dad thinks it’s a great idea to make breakfast in bed for Mom. With the kids. In the kitchen. With eggs. And bacon. And fresh orange juice.
We hear you. We try not to. We try to pretend we’re still asleep but we hear the mixer spewing flour and batter all over every surface. We hear the three bowls and two pans clattering. We can’t hear them but we know there are at minimum seventeen partially used, slightly crumpled paper towels scattered over every surface and some even make it to the floor. Oh, the floor. Flour, egg drippings, orange juice pulp. Yeah…the floor.
But if we can block the vision of the disaster dancing in our heads, we delight in our breakfast with our babies as they all pile into bed with us, slopping orange juice onto the comforter but giggling at syrup sticky mouths and four dusted noses.
Until we look at the clock. 7:45?!
Go! Go! Go! With the precision of Patton, we bound from our beds and shoo bodies to their rooms. Wash your face. Brush your teeth. No BEFORE you get dressed because we don’t want to get toothpaste on your pretty dress. Zip up your sister. What do you mean you can’t find your dress socks? You just had them last week and I know I folded them and sent them back with your laundry. Please go look again.
Dear? Were you going to shower? You know church starts at 9:00 right? And parking will be crowded so we need to leave a little early.
No, you can’t wear your long sleeve brocade Christmas dress for Mother’s day. Because it’s too hot. Please just put on the dress I laid out. Baby girl that’s the second pair of tights you have torn this morning! Son, this is not the time for video games. You don’t have any shoes on. Yes both of them. Of course you lost your second shoe. You BOTH lost a shoe? Ok, retrace your steps and look under your bed.
My hose have a run! And so does the second pair…Well it’s lotion, sandals, a speed paint on the toes. I’m just praying that everyone else is as winter pale as I am.
Hairbrush – who had the hairbrush last? No darling husband, at this point I really don’t care if you wear a tie or not. Yes, those shoes look lovely with those pants.
Let’s go people! We need to be out the door in five! I’m sorry…Has anyone seen the teenager since breakfast? What do you mean she’s in the shower?! We’ve gotta GO!!!
And then we get to church. We pause beside the car. Please tuck in your shirt – again. Where is your shoe? You had it when you got IN the car, right? Ok, everyone smile. All I really want for Mother’s Day is one picture where you are all looking at the camera and smiling at the same time. Boy, if you photobomb one more picture with your tongue hanging out, I will be one child less of a mother.
Well good morning Pastor Steve!!
Oh, Mother’s Day. The day when the matriarch is celebrated- much to her dismay. The day to honor the miracle of birth and the bodies that pulled it off. The day when we step back and look at the women who may not have blood descendants of their own but who love just as fiercely and have an even greater influence as a result of the fact that they choose to exert that influence.
It’s a day to pay homage to the women who fully grasp what it means to pray without ceasing. Who wear grooves in the floor walking a baby to sleep when they are an infant, soothing a fever when they are young, and pacing the floor listening for the car to return well after curfew.
Mother’s Day affords us the opportunity to honor every woman who walked beside another and said, “It’s just a phase. You can do this and you will both survive.” To recognize and celebrate the women who stepped into the lives of the motherless and adopted them as their own pouring out the same passionate devotion they would for one of their own.
So Moms and Women of Profound Influence, when you walk into the Kitchen of Despair today and as you referee another sibling spat; while you drag everyone through the evening routine and get ready to send them back to school and work tomorrow; as you carry your beloved ones before the Throne of Grace in thanksgiving and petition, remember this.
It doesn’t happen without you. And when you are gone from this earth, your shadow, your fingerprints, your voice will do so much more than remain – it will endure and persist and ring through every life you have crossed.
Here’s to you blessed among women.