I want to wish all you beautiful Mother’s out there a well-earned day of rest – 0r, if you’re not getting to actually rest physically, I hope you get a day of acknowledgment for all that you do, and all that you are.
Mothering is so often a thankless task, and yet it’s truly the hardest (and of course, most joyful,) job that we can ever hope to have. Whatever is thrown at us – whatever, we figure out a way of fixing it and making it better. We try to nurture our children in the same way that Mother Earth nurtures us: Even when we’re ungrateful, even when we abuse her – she she’s still there, trying her best to sustain us. A mother keeps on going no matter what. When the going get’s tough, she only has to get stronger.
Since becoming a Mother, I have experienced the kind of pain and joy that I never knew possible. I have experienced devastating loss (2 miscarriages.) I’ve watched close friends losing babies at an early age, or dealing with severely handicapped children. We’ve wept together in that space where you really don’t believe you will ever be happy again. But, like every Mother, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t experience the utter joy of being a Mom. Pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth, and the greatest spiritual classroom in life is being a Mommy.
Mother’s day is one of my favorite holidays because it honors the women who have to learn to love unconditionally 365 days a year. We don’t often ask for a pat on the back (do we????), but breakfast in bed is the best! Last weekend I took my daughter to the mall because she and I friend were bugging me to go. She begged that they could go off on their own, which was hard for a helicopter-mom like myself. I knew, or thought I did, that they’d make a bee-line to Claires or some such store and spend all of their allowances on cheap plastic. BUT, how wrong I was. When we met at our appointed meeting place, my daughter was hiding a little bag behind her back – I noticed it was from my favorite beauty store (which is expensive,). It touched me so much that she had thought about me, and has probably spent all those dollars that she’s been saving up (from scooping up dog poop and equally gross chores,) on something that she knew I’d love. I’ll find out tomorrow…
One of my favorite poets, John O’Donohue wrote a poem (for his mother,) which always brings a tear to my eye because he acknowledges that Mother’s need to be loved, too:
On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.
