I struggle not to hate Mother’s Day.
I really do.
I struggle not to lash out at the people complaining about having to “come up with something” for their mother, or how hard their mom is to buy for, or how they forgot again and have to rush out fora last minute something (or anything)…I hate the socially constructed, consumer-driven Hallmark-y-ness of it all for people don’t care like they really should–from the heart rather than the wallet.
And yet, I struggle not to resent…no…yes, I’ll say it…sometimes even hate, people that get to take their mom to brunch or lunch or have a mother/daughter day to celebrate too. I hate getting stuck in conversations about all the thought they put into the perfect gift and how much they love and adore and worship their mother, and all the sappy Hallmark commercials about sweet phone calls over the miles too. People who genuinely love and adore and honor their mothers like I did–do–and get to show her…
I know, it’s terrible.
But sometimes so is the pain.
And that’s the truth.
This is certainly not where my 27 year-old-self expected to be at 32. You know, back on my very first real mother’s day in 2005. Back a lifetime ago. I am amazed too, by those who think that being a mother myself somehow magically trumps being a motherless daughter and I should enjoy it anyway, if I really love my kids. As if the two are connected at all.
Even though I’m a mother now, 3 times over, I am a daughter none the less.
None the less at all.
And I am thankful for every moment, every day, every year…yes, every Mother’s Day I had. There are those who’ve had so much less. I am thankful on my knees for every second that I had.
I am thankful for every word, every phone call, every card, and every email I ever received… I am thankful for a mother that immersed herself in every moment of my life. A mother that was never too busy to talk. Who was excited by my excitement. Who was protective of my hurts, and frustrated by my frustrations, and never bored by the minute details of my totally ordinary days.
I am thankful for every hug, every praise, every encouragement, every prayer she made–to me and for me and even to others about me. What an amazing blessing to have her love reiterated by total strangers each time I was (and am!) introduced as her daughter. “We’ve heard so much about you! Your mom was so proud of you!”
And I am thankful for her legacy to us, her daughters and granddaughters. A legacy of strength. Of quiet steadiness. Of being content with little in life other than her home, her husband, and her family. Of a stubborn devotion to optimism and second chances for the rest of us. A legacy of unbroken love. Of kindness and smiles freely offered to everyone around her. I am thankful to be part of the history of such an honored and appreciated woman.
I am thankful to have such an unwavering example set before me, holding down the finish line, calling me ever forward, upward, onward in this journey of life and motherhood…
I take it all back–that first part.
I love Mother’s Day.
Because I love my mother and she deserves it.
And even more.
