Monday, May 9, 2011

On Mother's Day

I woke up Sunday morning, turned on my computer, and started to tune in to so I could watch/listen to Music and The Spoken Word by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir…same routine every Sunday. Instead, though, I decided to check my Google Reader, and saw Allison, my eldest daughter, had written something. I checked her blog, and read this:

On Mother's Day
I am so bad at Mother's day gifts. I think about what to do for months beforehand, and then it sneaks up on me every year. This year, I completely forgot that Mother's day was this week; the stinkin' car has been occupying most of my thoughts.

I think Mother's Day is so hard (for me) to give a gift for, because what kind of gift do you give someone who gave you life, nurtured you, raised you to adulthood, and still loves/worries about you.

Hallmark cards just don't cut it.


Last week (before the car debacle), Mike took Adam and Grace to the library. We have a strict (yeah, right) 3 books per person rule. Adam already had 5, and Mike was trying to convince him to let go of a few.

Adam let go of one, but said of the other, "This book is for Mom. She needs to read it."

So, Mike let him keep it.


The book as it turns out, is called, Mars Needs Moms!

If you haven't read it, you should.

I sat down and read it to my 3 kiddos last week, while I was stressed and grumpy and tired and worried, about the silly car.

After a few minutes into the book, though, I was no longer stressed and grumpy and tired and worried.

In the book, a little boy named Milo can't understand what's so great about moms. They nag you, make you do chores, and serve veggies with dinner. One night, he gets into trouble and gets sent to bed for the night. He yells, "I sure don't see what's so special about mothers!"

Unfortunately, the Martians do. Martians don't have moms; they grow from the ground like potatoes (of course). They kidnap Milo's mom that night, and he chases them, grabbing onto the spaceship, as they soar into space.

When he wakes up, he sees why his mother was taken. Martians need moms! They need the cleaning, cooking, soccer-practice driving, dressing, and packing of lunches talents of Moms. Milo thinks it's a perfectly reasonable explanation. He gets out of the spaceship to let them know what a great idea they had to get a mom, trips, falls, and his space helmet breaks, leaving him without oxygen. He lays there, out of breath, dying, and doesn't hear his mom coming toward him.
And he barely sensed the gentle hands place
her own helmet over his head.

Milo opened his eyes, and for the first time, he saw neither broccoli bully nor slave-driving garden ogre. He didn't see a tyrant or a dictator or a weary driver to soccer games.

Suddenly he knew what was special about mothers.

She looked at him, smiling, and said, "I'll love you to the ends of the universe."

And then she breathed in the terrible air, closed her eyes, and leaned on Milo, growing very still.

The Martians watched, unmoving, confused.

"Help her!" he yelled angrily. Then he added: "SHE'S MY MOTHER!"

Finally, the mighty mom nabbers of Mars understood. Their wonderful telescopes had seen many things about mothers down on Earth, but like certain little boys, they'd missed the best part.


Growing up I saw the cleaning and the cooking. The dance practice driving and the forgotten project bringing.

Until I was a mom, though, I too, failed to see the best part of moms.

That a mom would sacrifice anything for her little punks: new clothes, vacations, date nights, and the last brownie. That the relationship between a mom and her child is sacred. That a mom would gladly take the pain that her child feels, if she only could. That a mom spends hours on her knees pleading to a loving Heavenly Father to watch and protect her children while they are at school; to help them to make good friends and good choices; to give guidance in raising them. That a mother's love is complete and unconditional. To the ends of the universe and back.

That's what moms are really about. It's the absolute best part.

Happy Mother's Day to my mom. Thank you for everything that you've done. Thank you for the sacrifices you have made. Thank you for listening to me as a whiny teenager. Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for encouraging me to succeed, in whatever it was at the time that I wanted to succeed at. Thank you for teaching me... everything. Thank you for being such a wonderful example to me, so that I could be a mom to my little punks. Thank you for loving me to the ends of the universe and back.

I love you.

Happy Mother's Day to my mother-in-law. Thank you for raising such a hard-working and loving son, who I am lucky enough to get to be married to. He is a wonderful husband and a fantastic father. Thank you for taking me into your family like your own daughter. For being so supportive. Thanks for loving me (and hopefully forgiving me) when I'm self-centered and whine about my problems on the phone, and forget to wish you a Happy Mother's Day.
I love you, too.

Happy Mother's Day to all women. Whether you have children now or not. Because as a mom, I know the positive influence that other women have had, and will continue to have, in my children's lives. It takes a lot of people to raise a child; I thank you for your nurture and love that you've given to my children. They are all the better for it.


(Ain’t she the BEST writer! She has been a gifted writer since she was young. She wrote stories, wrote for her school paper, was its Assistant Editor, and was awarded a summer scholarship to attend a special writing program at Walter Cronkite School of Journalism…says mom, glowing with pride!)

I wrote a comment/response…but it disappeared…perhaps, rightly so. This wonderful gift needed no comment. As everything she does, it stands, pure, honest, from the heart, a gift of words to last a lifetime, and an eternity.

To Allison: Thank you, for being the first of six wonderful people, who made MY dream come true. All I ever wanted was to be a mom! And I was blessed, first with you, and then five times more. And then three times again with the amazing spouses they picked. And then, yet again, with four beautiful grandbabies.

And, you are learning, everything you “give up” really isn’t a sacrifice at all. It’s a reward to see your daughter dance in recitals – even from backstage, because you get to be the dressing mom, to watch her work and train and throw a shotput on the varsity track team, to kneel across an altar in a temple with her prince charming, to make sure she is okay after giving all to deliver three beautiful healthy babies. It’s a reward to watch your son give his first talk, to be chosen a little league all star, to work and achieve the leader of the scout summer training camp, to watch with awe as he works his way up through a new company, his supportive and adoring wife by his side. It’s a reward to help a son work for a great spelling test score – even if the creepy teacher wouldn’t admit he got 100% on the words he heard and spelled, to watch him play freshman football, to view his sculpture and artwork, and to take in his amazing photographic and word working talents that his sweet wonderful wife daily encourages. It’s a reward to watch your son help you with a cub scout den and be the most fun waterballoon shooting denner at cub scout day camp, to read his district winning poetry, to witness years of family fighting melt with his loving hug to Aunt Sherry, and to watch him rise above challenges with a smile and a will to try again the next day. It’s reward to see a daughter overcome a life-threatening illness, to sing a solo in church, to play marvelous piano solos, and excel at everything from work to school to being the most kind, giving and awesome friend. It’s a reward to watch your son play football – and be a captain, and face the biggest linemen both offensively and defensively, to see him get good grades – without even an effort, to display his watercolors, to pray for a few more inches as the discus he just threw flies. It’s the Young Womenhood Recognition Awards, the Eagle Scout pins, the caps and gowns, the seminary diplomas, the drivers licenses, the hunting trips.

All very, very much….a gift.

My Mothers’ Day was everything, and more. I used to sit in church and cry over how I had failed all of you…for, despite all you are, you all have made a few mistakes. I took it all as my fault. I hated Mothers’ Day.

Not too long ago, I finally grew up! I saw all of you…just like me…faults and all. And, you know what…It doesn’t matter at all.

I Love You All.

That’s it.

Never a disappointment to me….not at all. Everything is a blessing to me…all of you…all of it.

And, if you needed anything…at all….You Would Have It.

Yes, I understand the sweet mom in the book that sensitive and wise grandson of mine refused to give up.

My space helmet is yours, and Mike’s, and Ethan’s, and Cameo’s, and Doran’s, and Danyel’s, and Morgan’s, and Kayty’s, and Nathan’s, and Adam’s, and Grace’s, and Joshy’s, and Charles’.

And it’s not a sacrifice, but truly….a Joy!

The rest of my day was full of flowers and cards and visits. I wore all my crown jewels: the many gifts given me by my angels over the years. I can't wait to use my new chair massager. I uploaded all my precious stuff to Carbonite.

I loved my Mothers' Day. I love being a Mom.

Dream Come True

To the End of the Universe And Back!

1 comment:

The Willeyes said...

Thank you for this amazing post! You're so awesome. Glad you had a great day :)