© 2005 Royal Kingdom of Gotzborg. All Rights Reserved. Originally published in The Gotzborg Eagle, reproduced under license to Sinclair Publications.
I don’t know about you, but I celebrated Mothers Day yesterday (on Sunday; I don’t know how the whole world times thing fully works). To be honest, to call it celebrating is a bit rich; my mum suffered the indignity of having her son have an assignment due the next day-guess which one won. But she knows I still love her, and she gets to choose her own present, and she understands, and I love my mum for that.
It got me thinking about mothers in general. We all physically have or had one (unless you happen to be Adam created by God-but that is another editorial for another time); most, fortunately, had a mother in spirit too. To think that she lay on her back and endured such pain to bring us into the world, only for us to turn around a few short years later and sulk when we didn’t get our favourite toy, graduating to sulking in our room or other hiding place when we didn’t get our way (and then just did it anyway). For all the pain that mothers go through, we treat them really badly sometimes.
Think of all the things that mothers do; she is one half of the parental unit, and until recently, was the one who did much of the raising. She attends our needs, sets boundaries, laughs with us, scolds us, berates us for not finishing a group assignment earlier and then celebrates with us when it finally gets finished at 7 in the morning after working the whole night through. And to think that they do all this without having formal training.
Think about it; one of the most important tasks in society, the raising of a human being, and there is no formal qualification possible. No test to pass, no exam to cram study for, no practical component to master. More and more parenting classes are being run, but for the most part mothers are thrust into the role anew. Some say it gets easier with each child, but that is balanced by trying to deal with a new life to give attention to. There is no formal qualification possible. And yet we can look to our mothers and be thankful of what they have done.
They give their time for us; nurture us, put their life on hold as they decide that our life is more important than theirs right now. We go along our merry way, and we hit a certain age and look back on how much we’ve grown and done. And then we realise that our mothers have placed a lot of their life on hold for us during that time. It is one of the ultimate self sacrifices-putting another’s life before your own. And mothers do that, all over the world, everyday.
There are some for whom Mother’s Day doesn’t hold happy memories. There are some for whom their mother was only a mother in name and blood and not in spirit. For those, I cannot begin to understand how or what you feel. It is never too late to extend the hand of friendship again. For others, Mother’s Day only holds memories of the past, memories never to be repeated again. For you, I urge you to cherish the memories; let your mother always live in your heart. Remember that for every family with a missing mother is a family with a missing child; a mother need not exist only in blood, but can be a mother in deed and spirit.