It’s Mother’s Day and I am waiting for my kids to fix me dinner. Gregory is going to fire up the grill and fix some awesome burgers. Ania loaded up the rice steamer at my request. I heard fiesta ware clinking, so I think the prep is going well.
I am sitting in my room doing a few of my favorite things: reading and writing. I finished the last chapter of a book I had been reading. Now I am blogging away about Mother’s Day. My kids asked me what I wanted for dinner and took over. This is a first for me. Usually, it’s my job to decide how to celebrate this day, make the plans, the food and generally keep the ball moving like I do everyday.
Mother’s Day is such an oxymoron, a cruel kindness for young mothers. It is a day that they are to be celebrated, but it has sometimes become a burden.
Anna Jarvis founded Mother’s Day to honor her beloved Mother, but spent the rest of her life fighting the holiday’s political and commercial exploitation. I don’t know the whole story, but I do know that Anna Jarvis died in an asylum, alone.
Mothers everywhere are put on a pedestal this day. In church services sermons are preached about the wonders of Mothers from their strong hands to their ability to raise up a generation of Christians.
Why is Mother’s Day sometimes a burden? Well, I’m just not that PERFECT! I am trying my best, but GOODNESS GRACIOUS, could you take me out of the pressure cooker for one day? Sorry Pastor, but I just come of these services feeling like I’m carrying an extra burden, not being celebrated.
Most of the time, it’s up to me to plan my Mother’s Day while my husband works. I need to appear refreshed, happy that I have seven kids and have a wonderful day to boot. Sometimes, I’m just not that good.
Last year for Mother’s Day, I decided to go hiking. I had told the kids that some of my favorite things to do were: read, hike, eat chocolate and drink coffee while writing. Since most of these things they didn’t want to do with me, I opted for a hike. Their was dissension in the ranks. Some kids came along grumbling and complaining while others hissed under their breath, “shush, this is what MOM wants to do.” Mom FAIL. I guess I am not SO great at making my children happy.
Whew! I’m so glad that’s not really my job! My job is raise my children in the training and admonition of the Lord whether they like it or not, so I will keep doing what I am supposed to be doing. Downstairs, the true fruit of my labor, the true gift of Mother’s Day is hard at work. My children for years have watched me serve and they are now doing what they have seen me do. It’s not about them praising me or the gifts of coffee and dark chocolate even though I appreciate them. It’s about doing for others what I have done for them. That’s where the pressure comes in. Have I done what I have supposed to do? That’s what I ask myself every year? Do I deserve a Mother’s Day or do I need to shape up?
On the way home from church today, I was trying to decide what to do today with Jerry and two older daughters away, it was all up to me to plan the perfect day. Hunter interrupted my thoughts with, “Mom, what would you like us to make for your Mother’s Day dinner?”
“Give her the fruit of her hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates [of the city]. Proverbs 31: 31
Gotta go! Dinner is ready!