A Mother's Day Prayer
Dear God,
Now that I am no longer young, I have friends whose mothers have passed away. I have heard these sons and daughters say they never fully appreciated their mothers until it was too late to tell them.
I am blessed with a dear mother who is still alive. I appreciate her more each day. My mother does not change, but I do. As I grow older and wiser, I realize what an extraordinary person she is. How sad that I am unable to speak these words in her presence but they flow easily from my pen.
How does a daughter begin to thank her mother for life itself? For the love, patience and just plain hard work that go into raising a child? For running after a toddler, for understanding a moody teenager, for tolerating a college student who knows everything? For waiting for the day when a daughter realizes how wise her mother really is?
How does a grown woman thank a mother for continuing to be a mother? For being ready with advice (when asked) or remaining silent when it is most appreciated? For not saying, "I told you so", when she could have uttered those words dozens of times? For being essentially herself - loving, thoughtful, patient and forgiving?
I don't know how, dear God, except to ask you to bless her as richly as she deserves and to help me live up to the example she has set. I pray that I will look as good in the eyes of my children as my mother looks in mine.
A daughter (author unknown)
I wish I could take credit for such eloquent words, as I retype them they ring so true I feel like they could be mine. Now that I have had my own children, I can appreciate even more the love that comes from being a mother. When I rock Owen to sleep and gently put him in his crib, I think about how my own mother must have treated me as tenderly making sure I was comfortable and safe. When I pick Owen up and comfort him, wiping tears from his eyes or his runny nose, I think, wow, my mom did this for me.
Did she worry about the world being a safe enough place for me, like I worry for Owen? I bet she wondered, how I would turn out, what would I be, who would I be when I grew up. Did she ever have the moments of doubt that I do, of whether or not she was making the right decision or doing everything right by me . . . . my mother always seems so sure of herself, and so knowledgeable, I can't imagine her having any doubt or worry about her mothering skills.
Mom, thank you for making such a great home for me. Thank you for giving me sisters, especially one so close to me, even though she does get special treatment. (haha, J/K) Thank you for raising me to be a moral person. Thanks for always making delicious meals, and making me eat my vegetables. (And letting me think I was sneaky by spitting some out into a napkin). Thank you for giving me ponies, and dogs, and cats, and rabbits, and rats, and hamsters, and sheep (am I leaving anything out?), oh yeah, tadpoles from the creek. Thank you for letting me make horrible mistakes and figure out how horrible they were on my own and really learning from them (most of the time). Thank you for teaching me by example the importance of voting and the democratic process, thank you for instilling in me the belief that you should take care of your neighbor whether that person be right next door or across the border, or across the world, and that you should take care of those less fortunate than you, because aren't we all equal and human? These things you taught me some by words, but most by actions and I am forever grateful that I have such a wonderful example. As that prayer stated, I hope that one day my own children will look at me the way I look at you. I love you mommy.
