For years, I’ve dreaded Mothers’ Day, not because I disdain mothers, and certainly not because I regret becoming one but, rather, because I sincerely believe the adulation to be superficial and misdirected.
Every year, mothers are the subjects of sermons and symphonies, the recipients of flowers, verses, vases and adoration.
As heartfelt as these gifts are, I wonder, “Did anyone ask mothers what they want?” Having spent the better part of my life experiencing the wonder of motherhood, were this question ever posed to me, I have my answer ready: “Help me with my work!”
Mothers’ work is the education and protection of families, the nurturing of children and sustenance life in all the quiet, unseen ways that keep this world turning.