Another Mother's Day has come and gone. It wasn't what I had been hoping it would be. No card. No flowers. (Other than the ones my husband told me to pick out for myself when buying flowers for our mothers) No acknowledgement of all the time and effort I put into making their lives more comfortable. Matter of fact, both boys woke up extra early and as a result, were out of sorts throughout the day. Was this the Mother's Day I deserved? I was disheartened to think how little they appreciated me.
They spent Saturday hunting while I stayed home and cleaned the house. I prepared the food for the Mother's Day luncheon we were having for our parents the next day. On Mother's Day itself, after lunch was cooked and served, they didn't even offer to help clean up. After everyone left, we went to a sporting goods store and bought cross country running shoes for my oldest son and new socks for my husband. Some great Mother's Day this turned out to be.
This was the conversation that went on in my head throughout Mother's Day. It was a sad, pathetic, pity party for one. The internal dialogue was poisonous and unproductive. I stewed as I browsed all the fantastic postings of mothers who got presents and whose husbands had done nice things for them. Then I saw it. A post written by a dear woman that I consider to be one of God's angels on Earth. She lives her life in service to the Lord each and every day. She lives His word. Her post was an open letter to her son. Mother's Day was his birthday. In her letter, she expressed her love and devotion to him. That beautiful woman of God lost her son this year. This was her first Mother's Day without him and it fell on his birthday.
All I could think was "Dear Lord forgive me". I felt small. I felt pitiful. I felt ashamed. Here I sat, feeling mistreated and alone because they had failed to honor how much I did for them. In contrast, I know that this unselfish woman would be grateful for just one more moment with her son by her side. Then this morning I turn on the local news and learn that a woman lost her husband, her sister, and her four children in a house fire while she was away from home. On Mother's Day, she lost her entire family. I can't even begin to imagine that level of grief. Life without my men? It would be more than I could bear.
Do I wish my Mother's Day had been different? Resoundingly, I say YES! I wish I had soaked up every second of that time with my family. The moment in church when my oldest son reached over during the one hymn to hold my hand. The moment when my youngest son crawled on my lap and leaned back against me to snuggle. The moment when my husband reached his arm around my waist to pull me against him for just a second to say that unspoken "I love you." The moment when the boys giggled and squealed as they wrestled around on the couch. I wish I had EMBRACED the moments. Smiled. Sighed in satisfaction that this life was mine. That these men were mine. How blessed I am. How very, very blessed.
The Lord brings people and circumstances into our lives to teach us lessons. I pray that I continue to be open to those lessons. Please Lord let me recognize the beauty and the blessings that surround me everyday. Let me extinguish the internal dialogue that acts as a destructive force in my heart. Let me laugh more and criticize less, hug more and worry less.
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