To the Many Moms

Mother’s Day is on the heels of Easter.

This only occurred to me recently how close the two holidays are together. Perhaps this is because I just had a child of my own- again. Perhaps it’s because I have teenagers. Perhaps it’s because I so often hear my own words parroted back to me from said teens.

Easter- the day of great Thanksgiving. But also just as Mary is still, surely, mourning. Just after Lent, that season of waiting. Being a Mom means a lot of waiting. Waiting in the parking lot for practice to be over. Waiting on child birth to occur. Waiting for the stick to turn pink.

I have all of this on my mind with so much happening in the world today. I think of the moms who have lost, and loved, and will continue to do so in a never-ending holding pattern of waiting and wanting.

I think of the moms who are given to us by God- perhaps not the biological ones, but also the ones we need in a moment- or a season. How so many sons and daughters do not have the moms that gave birth to them, but the ones that choose them in a whole other way.

Being a mom comes with so many others having opinions about you. About how you’re feeding your child: breast, bottle, gluten free or organic? About how they’re dressed: frills, lace, leather or grunge? About the schools we send them to: public or private and which one of those? Are they safe/smart/good enough?

There is an unspoken pressure in it all. But don’t complain too much and by all means don’t be too happy either- you can’t be seen to be too perfect. The opinions of others determine if you’re a good or bad mother, and entire identities can be lost in the flood waters.

Mother’s Day comes just after one of the greatest sacrifices there was- God gave up his Son, but said Son rose to Him… what about Mary who was left behind? Did she mourn too much or not enough? Did she wear the right clothing or eat the right foods?

We ask these questions of ourselves and our peers now without acknowledging our own sacrifices, the small and large every day ways we live for our children- those that are here with us and those that aren’t. But did we ask them of our own mothers- all of the moms who showed up?

I know I haven’t. I’ve had a lot of mom-like figures in so many ways. My mother, who was and has been there my entire life. The person who taught me early on that art was subjective to whom ever was taking it in. My mom’s mother, who showed me the beauty in her artwork. My father’s mother, who taught me the gift of knowing family roots- and the appreciation of a great birthday card. My aunts, who sowed the seeds of baby feminism with historical books for kids about women who misbehaved. My children- who made me a mom myself. My sorority advisors… who put up with me, and didn’t give up on me. My fellow sorority advisors, who have no idea how much I have learned from them. And the ladies I get to mentor as a sorority advisor, who challenge me to be my best in ways they aren’t aware of. I don’t look at these women and wonder if they’re good enough- I know they are. Why can’t I do that for myself? Why do I let it bother me if others can’t see my worth?

Mother’s Day comes during the Easter celebration- and if you can’t celebrate yourself, or don’t have someone to celebrate you… let me be the one. Let me be the one to tell you you are amazing, and doing your best, and your children see it, too.