HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY . . . GOD BLESS US, EVERY ONE . . .

I don't have a photo on my mother on my computer, or I would have posted one here . . .

In another day or so it will be Mother's Day . . . at least here in the United States. I know that Mother's Day is hard for many women . . . hard for women who were never able to have children (and wanted them) . . . hard for women who had dysfunctional mothers who left scars, either emotionally or even physically . . . hard for women who look back over their lives and realize that they made some very poor choices that their children have had to or still may have to pay a big price for . . . hard for women who do not value motherhood for a variety of reasons . . . hard for women who feel like even though they TRY they do not measure up to some ideal mother they imagined they would be or wished they could be or wished they could have had . . .

Yeah . . . basically, I think mother's day is a hard day for a lot of women . . . perhaps ALL women. I have a friend who used to work in retail for decades, who said she would rather work BOTH Black Friday (day after Thanksgiving) AND the day after Christmas than work on Mother's Day . . . She said she absolutely HATED working that day, more than any other because the store was filled with men and adult children, looking desperately for a last minute gift that would be 'good' enough for a wife or mom . . . and women who were frustrated and disappointed and upset with what their families did (or failed to do) to 'honor' them on this special day . . .

I am not one of those who hates Mother's Day, personally . . . despite my own imperfections as a mother (and they are many), and the sometimes flawed and disappointing ways in which my husband and children 'thank' me for all I have done . . . I have learned to LOVE Mother's Day.

I used to feel sad and dissatisfied on Mother's Day until one day maybe twenty years ago I realized that part of what I was feeling was remembering that my own mother had been sad and disappointed on Mother's day. I decided that day that that sadness was NOT a legacy I wished to pass along to my own children. So I totally changed my attitude . . . Mother's day was no longer about what gifts I received or who made what for dinner . . . It was a day in which I simply celebrated how much I loved BEING a mother . . .

That was a real turning point for me . . . Even if I got flowers bought at a grocery store late Saturday night and a card my husband forgot to sign (and that was only on occasion . . . he also did some AMAZING, breathtakingly thoughtful gifts like the time he got our kids -- ages about four to fourteen -- out of bed at midnight Saturday night after I had gone to sleep and they spent FOUR HOURS in the middle of the night weeding , mulching , nourishing, and planting these big flower beds we had along the house in our front hard and then got up early the next morning to present me with dirty gloves and a mud-caked trowel . . . I was SO overwhelmed and touched that they thought of it and were willing to do that). . .

So even if I had to cook my own Mother's day dinner (we don't go to stores or restaurants on the Sabbath) . . . even if my kids chose that day to whine and fight and argue endlessly . . . It didn't matter, I didn't wait for THEM to make me happy . . . for THEM to make me feel like all the sacrifices and 24/7ishness of motherhood was worth it . . .

Nope, I wanted them to remember me HAPPY on Mother's day . . . So I was. And for ME, the way to do that was simply to make it a day on which I celebrated how very grateful I am for the opportunity I have had to bear and raise and nurture my five AMAZING, challenging, incredible children . . .

I have absolutely LOVED being a mom . . . and now a gramma . . . Oh, I don't delude myself that I have done any of it perfectly . . . and when I remember the times I was too tired to listen to a child who had something they wanted to share or turned away from a sticky hug because I was dressed up and ready to go out or lost it with a surly teenager when something deep inside of me was telling me they needed a hug . . . When I remember those times, my heart just aches . . . and I wish life had a replay button so I could rewind things and go back to just THAT moment and do better . . .

But I cannot . . . I cannot go back and erase those missteps and mistakes, no matter how badly I would like to . . . anymore than anyone else can. All I can do, is learn from those times and move on and try to do better . . . I have not been a perfect mother . . . even though I have honestly tried to do my prayerful, loving best . . . I am not at all sure that ultimately that my 'best' will be enough to give my children the stability, the skills, the grounding they will need as they navigate the rapids of their own lives . . . but I DO know that it was a priority for me and that I TRULY tried . . . and I pray that ultimately that will be enough . . .

Oh, how I hope so . . . I really REALLY hope so . . .

Also on this day, I remember MY mom. I cannot even find the words to express how beyond grateful I am for my own mother . . . She died sixteen years ago, and I still miss her every day. I hope with all my heart that I told her often enough how much I loved and respected and admired her . . . I hope she knows how often I remember things she said (or didn't say when I knew she was dying to) . . . how much I cherish that she believed in me, no matter what . . . and that even when my choices or actions disappointed her, that she KNEW that I was capable of better . . .

I am grateful for the memories I have of laughing with her, my sisters and I piled on her bed, laughing so hard we could hardly breathe, when I knew even then, that she REALLY wanted to go to sleep because she got up at 4 am to help my brother with his paper route . . . She was a very intelligent, well read woman, yet she could still laugh and be silly and enjoy the antics of seven active, creative, imaginative children . . .

I have no doubt that my own strong faith was nurtured by hers . . . and I treasure the memories I have of walking into her room late and night and finding her either kneeling at the side of her bed, deep in her personal communications with the Lord or sitting there, propped up with pillows with an open book of scriptures in her lap . . . I no longer remember all the WORDS with which she shared her deep love of the Lord and faith in His dealings except in snippets . . . but I will never forget the powerful witness -- throughout my whole life -- of how SHE found strength and comfort and hope by turning to Him on a daily and regular basis . . .

I miss you so much, Mom . . . and I wish with all my heart I could give you one more big bear hug and tell you how very much I love you . . . and that I will be ETERNALLY grateful for the opportunity to have been nurtured by a woman like you . . .

Happy Mothers Day . . . to all us imperfect, flawed, unfinished products who are daily trying to do our best to love and nurture and teach and encourage our children -- whatever their ages or circumstances -- to be their BEST selves . . .