Honor Thy Mother
by Wendel Potter
May 11, 2008
There's times when moms get the short end of the stick. Ironically, Mother's Day can be one of those times.
For instance, many high schools in these parts traditionally hold their commencement exercises on Mother's Day. In the city where I live, there's four graduations commencing on Mother's Day this year.
To me, that's a crock.
Mothers are special and only one measly day out of 365 is set aside to formally celebrate their motherliness. Why then should Mom have to take a back seat to her graduating offspring who, in most cases, wouldn't be able to spell "diploma" if it weren't for his mother?
And who is it that plans the post-graduation party, makes the finger sandwiches and the punch, orders the cake, hangs the streamers and balloons and officially greets the guests who track through the house on the way to the chow line?
Happy Mother's Day! Yeah, right.
Jesus said something to the effect that God didn't create Man for the Sabbath but rather he made the Sabbath for Man to enjoy.
Same goes for that second Sabbath in May. Mothers weren't created for Mother's Day. It was the other way around.
I'm sure Jesus would have said that, too, if he had thought of it. After all, his mother was one of the all time greats.
Our mothers were all given their due date at one time. Now it's time to give mothers their due.
My mother always wore a corsage on Mother's Day. That was a big tradition when I was growing up in the 1950s and 60s. A husband would buy his wife a big-ass spider mum or some other unsightly flowering monstrosity that must have set him back at least a buck-and-a-half. But the mother proudly pinned her flower to her dress and wore it to church for God and everyone else to see.
When I was in Kindergarten, our dads contributed a quarter so we could take a field trip (which consisted of a two-block stretch of our legs) to the local greenhouse. There we were each presented with a blooming marigold plant that we took home to our moms for Mother's Day.
I don't know if children still do things like that. If not, they should. Growing up, I never knew a mother who didn't cherish a flower from her child.
As a kid, I used to hike a lot of miles back in Iowa. I remember one particular cattail swamp we'd pass, down by the railroad tracks. We'd pick those butt-ugly cattails and take them home to our moms.
They were nothing but noxious. Except to our mothers, who saw not a bunch of cattails but rather a loving bouquet of roses picked from the Garden of Eden itself.
Mom would gather up those cattails and put them in a vase and display them as proudly as she did that awful corsage Dad bought her for Mother's Day.
Mothers like to feel special. They should. Because they are.
One of my favorite family photos is a snapshot of my wife sitting in a Boston rocker with my oldest son, who was ten months old at the time, asleep on her shoulder.
It was her first Mother's Day. It was his, too. It showed. In the pride and love in her smile, and in the tender trust our infant son surrendered to his mommy's protective grasp.
Thankfully, they've never grown apart. Except he doesn't sleep on her shoulder anymore. He still burps, though.
Both of our sons have a tremendous respect for their mother. It's one of those things that comes natural for them. That speaks volumes for her.
So on this Mother's Day, we will celebrate the Mother in our house. There will be cards and gifts. There will be a cake. I will prepare dinner.
I might even pick her a bouquet of lilacs from the bush in our back yard. They'd sure be prettier than a bunch of cattails.
Happy Mother's Day.
Copyright 2008 Wendel James Potter
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