Mothering

One of my favorite stories is when a girlfriend and her husband told their daughter the facts of life ... the details of how a baby comes into this world. Her response was an incredulous, "You did that for me?!"



This morning in church, the young children handed out carnations to the mothers in the congregation. I hesitated on whether or not to raise my hand.

I did not birth children. Whenever someone asks me if I have children, I always feel a bit like a fraud if I answer "yes." I do, but I share them. I did not go through the normal channels of:

First comes love,
Then comes marriage,
Then comes Sheri pushing a baby carriage.

My minor medical issues could've been overcome. But I also had enough brain cells clicking to ask myself, "Is this really the man you want your children to spend every other weekend with?"

Then I met and married the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. His two children became mine. Because I was given that gift. Because I grabbed it and craved it. Because I was taught by example that a mother's love comes from many who mother.

This afternoon I was still reflecting on mother's day, my goddaughters, the many women who have been a blessing to me. I was working myself into a pretty good funk about coulda, woulda, shoulda ...

My phone beeped and I read this text:

"Hi Mom. Happy Mother's Day. I'm at my cousin's graduation and I'll call you later."

Happy Mother's Day to me.

"Children love me. I'm the best mother they never had."
Anonymous

The Color Guard

This is not me or my mother. But, it works. It's a pretty good image of the expression we've both mastered.

I am drawn to colorful people. You know, the kind of people who start a story with:

"Remember that time we were so drunk and then we ..."
"How did it feel when we stuffed you guys in the trunk so we could pay less at the XXX drive-in and then we ..."

I used to wish (Oh please God, just once!) that I could tell her about an adventure gone awry or a risk that didn't pan out. And, she would say, "Oh Honey, everyone has done that. I did that." These wishes came often throughout my teenage years.

Like:
When the high school principal called to report that I was not in school and he suspected I was at the track.

When I rode to Purdue with total strangers to visit my boyfriend. I had my roommate lie for me the entire weekend. His roommate's parents lived across the street from my parents so the secret didn't stay secret for long.

When I was forbidden to get on a motorcycle -- EVER -- and I got on one with a boy. Turned the corner and pulled up next to my mother at a stoplight.

What I didn't get caught doing, I've long since told her the gory details. I don't think I shock her much anymore. Although running my life off into this latest ditch has spiced things up a bit.

She told me the other day that she has no desire to do any irresponsible or reckless things. But she's considering making up a wild-oat-sowing past to make herself sound more interesting.

Trust me on this: No one would buy it.

She is wise and responsible and wonderful. She has a wicked sense of humor and a heart of gold. How she wound up with me is a puzzle that confounds us both.

She did and I'm eternally grateful.

Happy Mother's Day to my mom and to all moms.

"An ounce of mother is worth a ton of priest."
Spanish proverb