Friday, May 7, 2010

Mother

Mother.

For those of us who have experienced the birth of a child, for those of us who have been in the arms of a loving mother, for those of us who have wrapped our arms around a child in need, that title has given us love, most times acceptance and always memory.

“You and Jim were always there for all of your students. When our parents weren’t there, we came to you. Your house was our house,” Heather explained to me.

Echoes of my childhood sat across from me telling me that I was not so different from my mother. As a child our house was always full of children, children we envied for their relationship with Mom. When my children were growing, I worked in the high school theatre department with my husband. Our home was always full of kids. I wondered if my children felt the same as I had those many years ago. I have worked hard to take away that doubt.

We were involved in a car accident soon after my son got his driving permit. My daughter had a broken nose. I fractured a foot and had a slight concussion. My son was terrified.

“Mom, I called Heather. She’s on her way.” Heather was a teen herself coming to take care of my children. James hadn’t called his father or another adult friend. No, he called his ‘sister’.

When the accident had happened, another of our ‘children’ ran to our car.

“What can I do?” he asked. Well, we were in no shape to know what to do, so he took our valuables out of the car for us and stayed by our side until help came.

The mother of one of our ‘kids’ called telling me that she was at the hospital. Her husband had just died suddenly. Her son was about 4 hours away at college.

“Can you go get him and bring him home?” Of course, I would. He was one of my ‘kids’. My daughter and I gather him up and brought him home. We grieved. This young man had called me every Friday night since he had been away at college. He was indeed one of my ‘kids’.

Mother.

My children embraced these kids who needed a hug, a listening ear. They became their brothers and sisters. When my son was married, one of these ‘syblings’, Scott, played the guitar.

“Mom, I was so nervous,” my son said of his wedding day. “I was in the room by myself and didn’t know what to do. Scott came in and stayed with me and talked to me. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Heather was an attendant for James along with his sister. I am ‘God Gammy’ for Scott and Marjorie’s children. Family.

Now I am ‘Grammy Pam’ to my granddaughter’s friends. The girls love sharing me always knowing that they are my ‘real’ girls. They are proud of what I offer their friends.

We are mothers. We are mothers of all who pass through our lives needing a mom. Our children learn by example to embrace their fellow travelers in this life journey. Our grandchildren learn to be kind and not to judge. I learn that being a ‘mother’ is a gift.

Mother. What a nice word.

To you mothers: Happy Mother's Day. Live in the moments of each day with your children. You are the builders of the future.

To you grandmothers: Happy Mother's Day. You are a gift to your family, those born to you and those given to you in your life journey. Embrace, enjoy.

2 comments:

  1. It's also a typical trait in our family to have little beings who are not our actual children but who call us Mom. When other children visit with my grandchildren, they often say, "Can I call you Grannie?"

    Of course you can.

    ReplyDelete