Mother's Day Musing

My assessment of Mother's Day is fairly ambiguous. Therefore, don't anticipate anything particularly ... well ... you choose the word. I'm being ambiguous.

For example, we had planned to visit my parents this weekend for my father's birthday (May 8) and Mother's Day (May 9). Then we had to cancel. But, then, we figured out that we didn't need to cancel. When I called to give my mom the news, she (in concert with my father) politely asked us not to come. I understood. The best thing I could do for her on Mother's Day was to plan our visit another time. I get it. Hallmark won't dictate the dynamics of our relationship. I am the same way.

Mark asked me last night how I'd like to spend Mother's Day; I still have no idea. I really don't want to do anything "special." I just want the day to "be." I think my only desire is this: That our family be together just hanging out. And when we get tired of hanging out, to do separate things and then come back together again.

Oh, and no church today.

I have heard my fill of sermons about honoring mothers or how we are to honor mom as blessed. The possibility of sitting through another was too much for me this year. (Think what you will of me about that.)

I simply wasn't up for wrestling with the uncomfortable feeling I get for all those who did not have the benefit of a wonderful mother when growing up. In fact, I get uncomfortable with the idea that we "rate" mothers at all.

That is probably my biggest struggle with this day. It feels like a glorification of something that simply is. When you have a child - by birth or adoption (official or unofficial), you become a mother. You just do. So what is the day for? To remind us of that? To remind us that our children will reflect on the quality of our maternal instincts on at least one day a year?

It seems an unavoidable reality. We don't honor bad mothers, so to have the privilege of celebrating the day, it seems you have to measure up somehow to the standards of someone(s) who are pretty special: your child(ren).

I think of that nearly every day – that my children have a right to rate my maternal instincts each moment of their lives. Who am I to them? Am I the mother they need to become the men they hope to be? I sure hope so, because I'm what they got. God help me. I pray so.

It is Mother's Day.

I need nothing more than the knowledge that my sons are healthy, happy and whole. Rather, wholly working on becoming who they are meant to be. And Stross ... Skye ... please know that I am wholly behind you.

I love you. No matter what. Thanks for the gift of you.