Today isn’t Mother’s Day, but mothers are on my mind and I’d like to tell you why.
Yesterday as we sat in a waiting room biding our time, my mom recounted to me what she had told my daughters. She told them about life. She told them about God and her faith in Him. She told them about me and the first time she saw me.
As I watched her face as she repeated what I’ve heard many times before, her eyes shone with the memories of love and astonished wonder.
“I just couldn’t believe it. How could a baby of mine be so beautiful, so perfect. I cried and cried. I counted your toes and fingers. You were perfect.”
As I listened I thought the real wonder of this story was the depth of a mother’s love. I also thought it was a great blessing to have been loved with such a love.
Earlier this week, I told my soon-to-be daughter-in-law about the first time I saw my son whom she will wed. My tale was different. No one placed him in my arms as a newborn. But still, the wonder was just as well, wonderful, when he came into our life. I think she understood clearly the depth of my love for him.
A few days ago I read a post by a young momma. “What was life before him?” She referred to her newborn son. I knew just what she meant.
Two days ago my sister-in-law flew across the ‘big pond’ to see her baby and her grandbabies, one of whom is one-week old. That love and hope of brighter tomorrows has kept her moving forward lately through a difficult season.
My FB feed is filled with new babies and the love in each of these little momma’s faces is apparent. They often use words like perfect. They’re all right of course.
And then of course, there are the mommas who have adopted and have felt the flavor of wonderment that floods my own soul. I can’t help but rejoice with them as each milestone is poated and celebrated. There are the mommas who have fostered and there are mommas-in-waiting. Mommas are lovely, altogether lovely.
And don’t even get me started on grand-mommas. My own grandmother was such a treasured and influential part of my childhood, I can’t put it into words. She absolutely helped form me into who I am today. No doubt. I grew to see myself through her eyes, eyes filled with love.
My sister is experiencing the joys of being a grandmother. One born just weeks ago, another due in a few weeks. Her whole world has shifted in anticipation of this new season of wonder.
It’s no surprise that I have enjoyed being Grandmommy to three little girls in Georgia who are just the sweetest princesses around! If you aren’t sure about that, just ask me and I’ll do my best to convince you. They aren’t my conventional grandchildren. I’m not the conventional sort. But I have claimed them and they have claimed me and love has sealed the deal.
“Wait a minute there, my experience wasn’t like this.” This may be what a few of you are thinking and I know it’s the truth. You know, as a foster-mom, I sometimes witnessed the worst examples of motherhood. Not every case, but many cases involved mothers who weren’t loving the way they should or maybe the way they truly wanted to. I know that plenty of mommas are selfish, bad-tempered, critical, and hurtful. That’s a shame. But those aren’t the mommas I’m thinking of this morning.
I’m thinking of mommas who have influenced our lives for the good, been our personal cheerleader, gave us courage to do better and be better. I’m thinking about mommas who adjust their lives, postpone their dreams, set aside plans, and invest themselves into their children. I’m thinking about mommas who have prayed and are still praying. I’m thinking about mommas who have had to overcome adversity, struggle financially, and press on when they wanted to sit down. I’m thinking about mommas who have loved with great abandon and are ready to keep loving not only their children and their children’s children, but theirs great and great-great-grandchildren.