Yesterday we honored my grandma for Mother's Day. My mom cooked a delicious lunch of pot roast, corn on the cob, sliced fresh tomatoes, cucumbers with onions, watermelon wedges, and fresh baked bread. She served the meal on my her grandmother's china and decorated the dining room with pictures of our mothers and grandmothers. As we ate, we all took turns telling a favorite story about each of our mothers and the conversation soon turned into sharing precious happy memories and laughing about good times.
After our meal, my dad and Dave did the dishes and took care of the kids so we could sit in the living room and continue our discussion. We started talking about what a conflicting holiday Mother's Day is for the actual people it honors. For one, because every living person has a mother, the honorees of Mother's Day are supposed to simultaneously enjoy their special day while showering their own mothers with praise, gifts, and attention. And not having to honor your mother is even worse because that means that you are missing her instead.
Secondly, there is the question of how to celebrate your mother. How do you combine a lifetime of gratitude and unpayable debt into one single arbitrarily assigned day in May? When you really stop to consider all that a mother does and gives, it makes all the Hallmark cards in the world seem like a drop in the bucket compared to all of the service and care and love mothers give.
So we sat there, three generations of mothers, each with a different perspective on motherhood, pondering this. I'm sure we each took a moment to consider what we really wanted for Mother's Day. We concluded that it was impossible to repay your mother but that just wasn't what Mother's Day is about.
And, in the end, that's not really what I want from my children. I'm not doing this because I expect some grand gesture of gratitude, or because I want them to feel burdened by a debt to me they'll never be able to pay, or even because I'm hoping that someday they'll feel obligated to care for me when I'm too old to care for myself. I don't want any of those things. I just want them to be happy. My mom said that what she really wants is for us to live happy, successful lives and pay it forward.
I hope I'm doing it right, Mom.
I hope you know that I make my way through three hours of church with two active children every Sunday because you did. I know that you wanted to provide us with a stable foundation in a gospel that has brought you so much true happiness and joy throughout your life and has done the same for mine. When the fear and anxiety go after my testimony, I hope you know that it's your belief that gets me through it. "Mom knows it's true and that can be enough for me today."
I hope you know that I take the terms "Smother" and "Helicopter Mom" to be compliments. I know that the original implication of those terms was not meant to be a positive one. But to me, they are titles of the highest honor. Also, until I read the book about being a "Tiger Mom," I thought it meant a mother who was like a tiger to those who wronged her children, a woman who ferociously defended her cubs who were not yet ready to be out in the wild. That's what "Tiger Mom" means to me anyhow. I learned that from you. You were our biggest advocate and growing up, I never doubted you would protect us from the people who didn't have our best interests at heart.
I hope you also know that I'm proud to be a homemaker. I remember being a young girl and watching you drive off to "Homemaking Meeting" each month and being in awe. Homemaking sounded like such an impressive term and I couldn't wait to be a homemaker as well. It sounded like the most important job in the world. Society has tried to tell me otherwise but I still know better.
I hope you know I get it now. I get why you were so frustrated when we got out of bed because we smelled popcorn. I get why you sometimes didn't let us go somewhere when you had an ominous feeling and sensed there might be danger. I get why you couldn't go anywhere on Mondays during Jack's mission because that was P-Day and you needed to stay by the computer waiting for his email. I thought it seemed silly then but now I have a son of my own and, although it's still sixteen and a half years away, I'm not sure how I will let go of him long enough for him to serve the Lord for two years. I get it when I was going through the divorce and you said that it felt just as bad for you. I was frustrated at the time. I couldn't understand how it could be bad for you when I was the one traveling through my own personal hell. I understand now that it was worse for you, that my feelings were broadcast through your soul at an amplified volume. I hope you know that I get some of it now. In five years when I have children in school, I will get it more. In ten years when I have teenagers, my eyes will open a bit more yet again. In twenty-five years when I'm watching Kate and Sam with families of their own, there will be new and more complex things for me to grasp. But for now, I hope you know I have at least some understanding of what it means to be a mother.
I hope you know that my children adore you. Their lives are better because you are in it. They get love and care directly from you but also your support and advice makes me a better mother. They are lucky to have you in their lives.
Mostly, I hope you know that I'm grateful for you. I hope you know I wouldn't be who I am today without you in my life. I hope you know that you did a great job, that your best was more than enough, that your children will love you forever.
And lastly, I hope you got what you wanted for Mother's Day.
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