Sometimes my brilliance surprises me.
I had this great idea: Last Sunday we went out to a special restaurant to celebrate Mother’s Day, a full week ahead of the maddening crowds.
Wasn’t that inspired? We had almost the whole place to ourselves; it was so sweet.
The memory of it made all week happy.
I love Mother’s Day.
I love remembering and thanking God for my dear mother.
That’s her, in my unfinished drawing, sitting in her favorite chair, wearing her favorite blouse (it was an Argentinian polo shirt, in her favorite color: blue), at her favorite beach home, reading her favorite book, the Bible.
With her favorite, ubiquitous glass of ice tea.
I am realizing that my life has ubiquitous prosperity that can be traced back to the good mother God gave me.
Thank you so much, Lord Jesus!
But I have a more self-centered reason for loving Mother’s Day.
It’s because I love being a mother.
Love, love, love, LOVE it!
The following is a piece I wrote as an entry to Good Housekeeping magazine for a ‘Mother’s Special Moments’ contest, way back in 1992.
I did not win the competition but I feel I like won something when I found it in my files last month.
Here it is.
Titled: “At The Bus Stop.”
Sometimes it’s the ordinary moments of motherhood that bring the deepest joy and satisfaction.
We live in the city so we often travel by bus. I usually avoid taking my four daughters downtown at the same time but that afternoon we all needed to go. After the fuss of changing clothes, washing faces, and arranging ponytails, we five promenaded to the bus stop two blocks away.
It wasn’t a long wait at the corner, but long enough for my mother-heart to swell.
My energetic, bright three-year-old sang as she bounced up and down and back and forth at the end of my right arm. My always-busy-happy six-year-old square-danced with the telephone pole. My helpful, gentle, organized nine-year-old kept watch for the right bus. And my calm, thoughtful, dreamy eleven-year-old leaned on my left shoulder.
Each daughter exhibited her originality and I marveled at their beautiful differences. Watching them, I felt detached, as if I had nothing to do with these dear little women. Yet, at the same time, I am deeply attached and very proud to be their mother, standing with them, at the bus stop.
Well, now you can see why I didn’t win anything in that contest. Just a ho-hum story.
And you must agree that I am a big winner being the mother of daughters like mine.
Sometimes their brilliance surprises me.
I will never be able to thank God enough for letting me be the mother of these four wonder girls.
I learned — and keep on learning — so much from these dear daughters, watching them grow and bloom, serving God and others in their distinct places . . . a Canadian university, a Japanese-American middle school, a Spanish church, and an American Veteran’s hospital.
I received — and keep on receiving — so much from them (and from their wonder daughters!) . . . so much love and care and honor.
And since I celebrated Mother’s Day last week, I think I shall make today — tadaa! –Daughter’s Day!
So, Happy Mothers Day, everyone!
And Happy Daughters Day to me!
(Hmm . . . now I gotta figure out how to celebrate . . . )