Heartwings says, “Mothers deserve to be acknowledged every day, not just one.”
Most of the time, once you have a baby, something changes. You are now a mom, with all that entails. A tug to the heartstrings connects you to the tiny being you now hold. It is a special bond, unlike any other because it can last as long as you live, and rightly so, because it surpasses distance and circumstance. It may be stronger for some than for others, however nature has probably designed it for us so the survival of the species is assured. It seems built in.
The day to honor mothers brings out remembrances of one’s own, as well as (hopefully) acknowledgement from one’s children. Having just this morning, the day before the official one, received a call from one of mine, I am still basking in the glow from it. I know I will hear more, as I did today. My dear family is good about keeping in touch. I feel most fortunate for this.
My own dear mother is now no longer in her physical body, yet she is still in my heart and always will be. Though like most parents and children we had our differences, for a long time now all has been forgiven. As we grow older most recognize that our parents do the best they can and we have benefited from their care even though we may feel that we suffered from aspects of it. Fortunately for most of us, wisdom comes with time and experience, and with hindsight we see the past in a different light.
Mothers often try to protect their children from what they see as bad or as harmful. This is based on their own experiences or what they have been told by others. It may or may not be relevant but as mothers, all we have to go on is what we believe at the time. And times do change. Once comic books were considered a bad influence. I remember there was a lot of talk about this. Now that is no longer an issue; other warnings have taken their place. Mothers still have the same desire to protect the young.
Does this ever go away? I think not. Speaking for myself I know my children must tire of my warning them to get enough sleep or to be mindful of something or other. A mother must allow for the continuation of the mother instinct as it persists regardless of our ages. No doubt, in my opinion this proves mothering must be built in.
The main thing, to my mind is to remember not to nag one’s children or to act disapproving if they somehow manage to ignore or not to heed our advice. Equally important is not to be critical as they learn things by making mistakes. It is truly said what is most important about making mistakes is to learn from them. Knowing she did the best she could, today I bless my dear mother, and I am grateful.
May you be a loving mom even if you have no one of your own to mother.
Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert
PS Tell me about your mom and what she did for you. I do so enjoy hearing from my readers. Write to me at tashahal@gmail.com, or better yet, sign up for my weekly column at http://tashasperspective.com
This year the annual birthday celebration for our country on the Fourth of July has been muted by the corona virus. Yet though it is important to be patriotic and to celebrate, it may be that one day is not enough to show our patriotism. Parades are wonderful, fireworks are lots of fun to watch, and of course backyard barbecues are almost mandatory, however what is most meaningful is to celebrate our patriotism all the year round.
On Easter after church, we usually went to dinner with my Great Aunt Alice in her big house next door to the cottage my parents rented from her. She would have a beautiful table with gleaning silver, fragile china and sparkling crystal goblets set in the large dining room she used for formal occasions. Once the soup course was done and dishes removed, people brought in to help, carried around platters of meat and dishes of vegetables. These would be followed by dessert and finally, finger bowls with a sprig of green lemon verbena floating in them. The silver candy dishes with chocolates I eagerly eyed all through the meal were finally passed around.
When I was a child there was a game called musical chairs that was often played at birthday parties. Enough chairs minus one, to represent the number of children present were placed in one or two rows and as a tune was played on the phonograph, participants marched or scurried around them. When the music stopped you had to find a seat. One chair was removed each time until by the end the winner was the person who sat in the remaining chair. I disliked the game intensely. I wasn’t an aggressive child and often lost out early. I hope it has fallen out of fashion. We never played it when my children were growing up.
The joyful birthday of our country on July fourth happens to be right next to and between my husband Stephen’ birthday on the third and our wedding anniversary on the fifth. Over the many years of our life together what a wonderful time we have had with our celebrations. In the past we would share what we used to call our three days of peace and love with friends. They would come from everywhere and stay for the three days, overflowing our large home and even camping in the back yard. The pool and the hot tub were frequently in use. They were joyous occasions.
When I was a child in grade school, each year our music teacher organized May Day celebrations. Every class participated, and a May Queen was selected from among the girls in the ninth, the topmost grade. The younger children had their own maypole. I found it hopelessly confusing. You had to go over one and under the next as you wound your ribbon around the pole, weaving it into the others until there was only a little left. After rehearsals, much to my relief I wasn’t chosen to do it.
Even as a small child I was aware of the chaos of war. During the second World War my mother’s parents were still in Germany. My mother had not heard from them for almost ten years. Finally when the American forces broke through, her parents were able to communicate. I watched her wrap packages with food, clothing, and other necessities. Although there was still chaos and difficulty in Germany, at least my mother’s heart was at peace.
Pujakins 