Mother’s Day

Ask the Lord for rain in the springtime; it is the Lord who makes the storm clouds. He gives showers of rain to men, and plants of the field to everyone.” – Zechariah 10:1

This verse in Zechariah has been resonating with me since the beginning of the New Year. I have felt that I have been living under the shadows of many storm clouds for a very long time. I have prayed for the strength and wisdom to shine through them with His strength. He has whispered to me softly over the years, and I have not always been in tune enough to listen. Some of my angst and turmoil has been caused by the fact that I am a mother and a daughter, and as many of you know, sometimes that carries with it some heartbreak.

Today is Mothers Day, and my children live  out of state, and my own mother is no longer with us here on earth. I know that Mothers Day is for some a day of celebration of family and love, and for others it can be a day of heartbreak and tears. Many women are not mothers, and would like to be, and many  have lost their mothers or their children, and are missing them today. Many mothers  have had wonderful dreams for their children that were altered by life circumstances and poor decisions.   As I was taking my dogs out for our early morning walk, I couldn’t help but think about what this day is for so many of us.

On Mothers Day when my children were young, I would often awake to sounds of rummaging in the kitchen. I pretended to  be “sleeping in” as I heard my daughter’s very loud whispers of, “Shhh! Mom is sleeping–don’t wake her yet!” She was admonishing her brother and father as they were clattering away in the kitchen. When they finally burst into the room carrying my breakfast tray, I would rub my eyes sleepily, and they would proudly sing their  happy Mothers Day wishes. I am quite sure the coffee was always brewed and poured before the toast was made, because it was always cold by the time they brought it up to me. As a matter of course, the dog and everybody jumped on the bed and watched me as I drank my coffee, and nibbled on the scorched toast and the boiled egg that always had bits of shell still attached to it. Later, as my children grew, the breakfasts they made became more sophisticated and sometimes we went out to eat. The whole family (minus the dog) was treated to a special meal to celebrate.

I wouldn’t change those breakfasts for the world; they were breakfasts fit for a queen, and I always loved it.  How I miss those days; I always knew where my children were and I knew they were safe.

Eventually, as the teenage and young adult years came upon us, Mothers Day wasn’t always a day of celebration for me. Rebellion and resentment took root in the lives of our kids, and suffice to say, that was difficult. However, these are not my stories to tell. I know someday my children will share their stories if they choose to, and others will be blessed.

I have often grieved about my circumstances with a dear friend who has experienced similar storm clouds to mine. She has always encouraged me with her wisdom, and by reminding me that we are privileged to be the mothers of our children. Specifically; we were chosen to be their moms, and we could choose to grieve and cry, or we could choose to rise up, embrace the storm, and shine through the clouds in His strength. It is with this thought that I cry tears of gladness, because I can feel the springtime rain coming down on our lives.  The fields are being planted. My children are grown; they have survived the storms also, and I am very glad, and very proud.

While my mother was still alive, I neglected to be perfectly honest with her regarding the trials our family was experiencing. I am not sure why I chose to keep things from her. I guess I felt she wouldn’t understand, would be disappointed, or she would judge me too harshly. One day earlier this spring, my husband had just finished a phone call with our son.  They had had an enjoyable conversation, and my husband was in a very good mood. That simple thing made my heart sing. I felt joyful, and I felt blessed. I also wanted to call my mom right away and tell her about it, and then of course I remembered that I could not. It made me realize how wrong I was to keep the sad things from her while she was here with us. In hindsight, I realized that she would have understood, and helped me. After all, she had her own experiences with the rebellion and stubbornness of her own children (present company included) to draw from.

Mothers’ Day has become a day of quiet enjoyment for me now that my husband and I are empty nesters.  He is lovely; he jokes that he is no longer an amateur and can make a decent breakfast and serve our coffee hot. Our children stay in touch, and we celebrate our moments with them, whether they are here in person, or whether we just have a chance to speak with them by telephone. We enjoy the day and take time to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. We are grateful for today and hopeful for tomorrow.

Happy Mothers Day. Be blessed.

“Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man….he will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord.” – Psalm 112:4,7