A mother is a miracle, certainly why any of us were born,
and the main reason most of us have survived to tell about it.
A mother is a miracle, certainly why any of us were born, and the main reason most of us have survived to tell about it. We are among the weakest of all creatures when you think how long it takes us to live on our own. We have to have nurture and protection long after being (spoiler alert) hatched/delivered. Each mom devotes nine months to getting us safely here, nine months of her life, bodily resources, and emotional stability. They eat for us, drink for us, and carry us.
When we arrive we become the center of their life energy for years to come and a source of worry and anxiety for our happiness until the day they die or lose their faculties for good. There are bad mothers, mean mothers, damaged goods mothers and mentally ill mothers, but the adjectives merely beg the case. “Mother” without a descriptor automatically assumes what we know—that God endowed nature to give us one who would delight forever in our mere being and be there for us in our stumbles. They are the first and most lasting transmitters of human culture and spiritual values.
There are those whose loss of motherhood before it began will be their deepest source of sadness and loss. Today is a hard, hard day for them, for there is in their heart and mind the longing that has left such crushing disappointment. So the task of life is to redirect this most powerful and radiant energy to other acts of love—toward nephews and nieces, neighbors and orphans, teaching and doting upon the children of the world. The world needs mothering. It doesn’t have to be one on one.
I have been born once on this earth and was fortunate to have a mother who always wanted the best for her children, celebrated our victories and took our side with utter and unrelenting bias in every conflict. Today in America many whose mothers have died will shed a tear and smile more than once to remember someone who was forever their home base when “it” came to get them. When Mom passed away, the shelter over their head was gone forever and they took her place.
Join me in gratitude for mothers, each and every one, those who birthed and raised us, those who helped fill the void by loving us if a mother didn’t or couldn’t. Mothering is pure grace. A good mother loved you from the first stirrings inside. She recognized you the moment your eyes met. And if, per chance, your mother did no more than give you life, celebrate that and look around. If you’re still standing, some Mother Life somehow got to you—by a Mom who chose you, a family member who took care of you, a teacher or a neighbor who took you under wing and helped.
To the women in our lives whose obsession is to take care of all of us and teach us how to take care of ourselves and each other, thank you.
