Belonging to this church and being a sensitive soul has brought me to the place where weighing things takes on a whole new meaning. It seems I cannot simply glance at a situation or an event and watch it expire. However the question is how do I approach Mothers Day?
Mothers Day is a more difficult experience as I was raised (?) by a woman who I believe in all honesty would have been just as happy if she never had children. She in turn was raised by a true British battleaxe who felt that children should neither be seen nor heard.
I would have to go to my great grandmother for a glimpse of what I might call true motherly generosity. Oddly she was married to a man who was a Presbyterian minister from Glasgow, a man who encompassed all the Scottish stereotypes. I was told once that he stopped drinking tea because his tea bag wore out. Once he lost his wallet and my great grandmother found it in the barnyard covered in cow dung. She carefully pried open the wallet and found some money. She removed a little and with care placed the wallet back in the cow dung. She was able to buy her children some clothing for school, not enough to arouse suspicion but enough to allow her two children to experience clothes that were not hand me downs. Can you imagine such desperation? Your husband could drone on about Christian generosity while his wife clothed the children from money found in cow dung.
So where do I stand on Mothers Day and however can I wax eloquent on the subject of motherhood? I ask why we should celebrate this fine institution when my examples fall far short of June Cleaver and come closer to Mommy Dearest?
Following the script of time, I married and we had children. Two of the three children now have children of their own. I did not think much about motherhood or for that matter parenting when it came to my children’s lives until the birth of my first grandchild. I took a silent oath that these children would never be harmed, that they would be shown love and kindness.
Of course I could have very little true day to day effect on these outcomes but I took the oath anyway.
It turns out I needn’t have worried. When I come to my children’s home these wonderful fresh faces greet me at the door. Warm big hugs all around will begin all visits. These children can laugh with their parents, tell jokes and yes occasionally even fart jokes. They grow tired and whiney but instead of anger there are books to read, laps to sit on and fall asleep in. I once had a wonderful conversation on the phone with my daughter while my eight year old grandchild who was suffering from a headache fell asleep with her head in her mothers lap. The grandchildren are permitted to use the computer for limited amounts of time and are supervised while doing it. There is swimming, Girl Guides, skating, travel and other positive activities. For one child there is even church. Sometimes they (we) sing at the table and do odd things with macaroni. While no situation is perfect there is a true feeling the children are benefiting from kindness and an appreciation for their very existence.
I look around at the mothers and parents in the church and see caring and concern, kindness and joy in the treatment of children. There is a matter of fact treatment of the children combined with obvious love and affection. Humour seems everywhere combined with an atmosphere of community. It seems there are many people volunteering to scoop up a child and comfort or play with them. Sometimes if you didn’t know whose child belonged to whom, you might wonder why that child is going home with that group of people? I love that especially.
Yes I guess my observation of motherhood and its ramifications have evolved over the years and for the better I might add. God seems to have allowed me to see the positive in Mothers Day finally and I am truly thankful. I am encouraged on Mothers day and not dismissive or contemptuous. When I pray I often thank God for the many blessings coming from Him, sometimes it takes my own evolution to be able to see them.
Thank God for mothers and Mothers Day.

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