Happy Mother's Day!

Well, this is the twenty-seventh time I've been eligible to receive giftage on this day, and although I'm not real big on having $$ spent on me this day, my gifts were just great! Elder son called this morning (shortly after I'm thinkin' my sweet DIL said, "Luke? Have you called your mother?" It's nice having a daughter-in-law), and Younger Son showed up at church (mainly because he knew he'd get no lunch if he didn't. Food works.), and we took MY mother out for lunch at the Farmer's Market cafe. It was her choice -- I was prepared to go a little fawncier, but it's hard to beat a good meat-and-three that also gives you free ice cream or sherbet for dessert.

My sister and I gave her a plant, although I got to do the pickin' out of it. I chose calla lilies, because Katherine Hepburn's famous entrance in "Stage Door" was one of the scenes my mother raised us on. It never ceases to crack us up when she does it. When I handed her her pretty potted stuff, well, here, you can see for yourself....

Also in honor of the day, another recycled newsletter devotional that I did a number of years ago for Children's Day, which I think is just as appropriate here..

“In raising my children, I have lost my mind but found my soul.” -- Lisa T. Sheperd

Some of the lessons I have learned from this motherhood gig:

When son Thomas nearly severed his finger at age two, I learned exactly what it meant to wish to take on another’s pain as your own. I also learned that my sister can drive a car really, really fast.

When he wandered away from the house at the age of three, I understood clearly all those parables about lost things, and how desperately God looks for us when we lose our way.

When Luke turned his nose up at peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a child, I learned that some people just don’t fit the mold, and the fact that this can be downright inconvenient is just too bad.

When kids have teased my sons I found out just exactly how mad a wet hen can get.

I’ve learned that there is a black hole into which the homework you spent hours helping your child with disappears, and that one discovers where that black hole is only after the class is over and your child has gotten a “0”.

I’ve learned to check the pockets before doing a load of wash, and also the best way to explain that pink underwear are, too, perfectly okay for a boy to wear.

When my mother was getting nervous because Luke wasn’t gaining weight quickly enough as a newborn, I learned how hard it can be to stand one’s ground, but that when your heart tells you you’re doing fine you probably are.

When your children veer off the path, I’ve learned that turning it over to God is tough. It also happens to be very effective.

When four-year-old Luke “gave” my engagement ring to his girlfriend at KinderCare I broke down in tears. When he saw me cry, he cried, too. This was the moment in which I truly learned how little my possessions mean to me, and how much my children’s hearts do.

When Thomas discovered a passion for art at about the same time he discovered all that wonderful empty space on the wall behind bed, I learned that white walls ain’t all they’re cracked up to be. I also learned that a warm iron and a little wax paper can work magic. Well, that and rearranging the furniture.

I’ve learned that there is a place deep in the heart of a Mother marked “unconditional love” that only a troubled child can reach. God has one of those places, too, and this sure makes me feel better.

I’ve learned the truth in the following line I heard once on a sitcom – “A mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child.”

When Thomas fell off the back of the top seat of a row of bleachers onto a concrete slab at age 2, I learned that kids are pretty resilient most of the time. Mothers take a little longer to bounce back.

I’ve learned that the moment you give birth you inherit the radar your mother always had.

I’ve learned that training up a child in the way he should go isn’t as easy as it sounds, and wonder how on earth people manage without a church family.

I’ve learned that time stops when a child asks for one more hug, and even if it doesn’t really stop, it doesn’t really matter.

Mostly, though, I’ve learned that there isn’t any tougher job than raising a child, unless it’s trusting how you’ve done it when it’s time to let them go.

Addendum: I don't know if I ever taught my children any of the lessons I wanted them so desperately to learn, and in that regard I don't know how to assess my effectiveness in this career from which I am now mostly retired. If I were to exit the planet today I hope what they would say about me is this: We never doubted for a minute that we were loved. I failed at so many things in the mother department -- but I hope I never failed at that.