Will he remember?

It is good my Matthias is getting married today. I don't think my body could take another night of little sleep. Once he is safely betrothed with all catastrophes dealt with and behind us, he will be off to his honeymoon in Cancun, and I will be off to a long nap.

This morning, I was dreaming for the brief 5 minutes that I think I actually slept and I was remembering the wedding in my dream. Then my mother asked me how did the son and daughter dance go, and with horror I asked, "Was there a reception?"
She looked at me strangely, and my terror escalated as I cried, "There was a reception...there must been. I don't remember it, Mom! I don't remember it at all! I don't remember dancing with my son!"
And I awoke, crying.

In a way, that is what life is like for me. I watched my two grown handsome boys and my nearly grown daughter at the rehearsal last night. One tall curly haired one, the groom, the other tall curly haired man a groomsman, and the lovely curly haired daughter a bridesmaid. When did all that growing up happen? Where was I? I don't seem to be much a part of it anymore. Was I ever? Did I make an impact? Did I make a difference? Will my children one day, when they are surrounded by their own babies smile and remember dancing with their mom?

I awoke from the dream and praised God it was only a dream. I still had a chance, like Scrooge. I could change the future. I could remember at least this moment. There will be too many photographers there to let me forget.

"And you always have me," whispered the still,quiet voice within my soul, "Though you may forget, I will never forget you."

Isaiah 49:15 NIV

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!

Genesis 2:23-24 NIV

The man said,
"This is now bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called 'woman,'
for she was taken out of man." That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.

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The Kentucky Derby and Mothers

I love that the Kentucky Derby and Mother's Day are often (maybe always?) the same weekend. Raising a Derby winner and raising a child are not that dissimilar. You have to treat both with gentle but firm guidance, breaking bad inclinations, but not the spirit. You must train them to use their God-given talents, but know they can't just run wild. They must be taught to run with control, and to go the distance.

If you give them their head, they will run themselves to the ground before they hit the first corner. If you hold them in too tightly, they will be left eating the dust of the pack. You want the very best trainer money can buy to guide them through their education, and you want the race to be jockeyed (accompanied) by someone with experience, gentle hands, fearless instincts, and a desire to win.

The best mother knows all this. It is surprising there are not more women Derby trainers and jockeys. I was rooting for the horse with the woman trainer this year. The woman had been in the hospital, with about a week to live, when she had a heart transplant and a new lease on life. The horse had been born ostensibly dead. As the trainer watched sadly, the foal suddenly breathed, leaped to his feet and ran.

That horse placed third yesterday, which all in all, is pretty amazing given the history. I think it would have made a better blog if the horse had won, but another long shot won instead, and I am sure he had a compelling story of his own. We all do.

My favorite mother would have been a good horse trainer if she weren't afraid of horses. She knew to give us freedom and trust us even when we didn't deserve it, so when we were in the race, we would know how to run responsibly when we couldn't hear her voice. She knew that reining us in now and then prevented broken legs and maybe a few broken hearts, and that the race is not always to the swiftest, but to the determined. She knew to let us follow our passions and let us discover our limits, while being sure we had fresh hay in the manger and soft straw in the stall when we limped home discouraged and weary.

To all those wonderful mothers out there training their foals for the Big One, you are doing the most important job on earth.  And for this mother, this often stumbling, bumbling but so hopeful mother, I cling to the One who has eyes wide enough to watch my babies as they run off to races I can't accompany them upon.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.


Proverbs 22:6
 ⁶Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Ode to Mom

There are baby bunnies everywhere in our bushes. Every time I pull in to the driveway, a wide-eyed youngster is frozen there, wondering which way to scramble.
Where is your mother, I want to yell! Why is she not directing you to pay less attention to the clover and more attention to the four wheeled beast about to smoosh you flat? Is she off munching on my flowers, too concerned about her own needs to pause long enough to guide and discipline her baby?

I was lucky. I have a mom who cared enough while we were growing up to sacrifice her own desires and needs in order to raise happy, and relatively well-adjusted, productive children. Oh there were those lapses like when Amy was 7 and the horse knocked her into the mud and walked on her back, or when Holly at age 3 walked 2 miles alone to the local grocery store. But that, and a miniscule few other incidents were all survived and probably made us all stronger.

No one really knows how hard it is to be a mother till you are a mother. All the things that miraculously happened to feed, clothe, nurture, protect you as a child..... Mom was largely responsible for. The clean toilets were not the product of the toilet fairy showing up at midnight. Being talked to and read to from the moment your eyes opened which paved the way for intelligent thought and limitless possibilities in your world may not be remembered, but it was Mom who did that just as your neurons and synapses were connecting. Even the greatest genius in the world might not have emerged if his mom had not nurtured that tender intellect.

There is no way to properly thank a mother. My tribute to my own mom is that I consider being a mother the highest and most glorious calling on earth. Happy Mothers Day, Mom.

Proverbs 31:27-29 (New International Version)

²⁷ She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

²⁸ Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:

²⁹ "Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."