Mother’s Day.

 

As a child growing up, Mother’s Day was a day to celebrate and honor the woman in my life who sacrificed so much to bring me into the world and raise me to adulthood. Cards were signed, flowers bought and family gathered to pay tribute to the matriarch of the family.

 

As an adult — and with my mom’s presence no longer in this world — Mother’s Day becomes a little more challenging.

 

And since my wife and I are childless, the significance of the “holiday” reverts right back to Mary Joanne Morgan — my mom who passed away in 2001.

 

What makes things even harder are the Facebook posts from friends who take photos of celebrations, send thoughtful memes and extend loving wishes to their “still around” moms. I wish with all my heart I could be in that group. Instead, I’m one of those who posts pictures of mom from years past with a shout out to Jesus to “send her my love.”

 

It’s funny, because while my mom was here on earth, I took for granted all the times she would drop everything at any moment to sit and hear some good news I’d share about my life. She was a great listener and gave very sound advice that I didn’t realize was so important until years past her death day.

 

Every day since is a struggle, especially this time of year.

 

Mom was the disciplinarian of the house since my dad was on the road for such lengthy times every year. She put down the rules and rarely budged on her authority. I remember one time my brother and I were paid around $15 for babysitting one time and she told us right away, “do not use all that money on baseball or football cards.” We promised we wouldn’t but on one significant day, we stopped at the corner drug store to just buy “a couple packs”. But, after stepping outside the store and feverishly opening up the packages, the draw for more pulled us back inside Humboldt Drug and wouldn’t you know it? We had spent all our money.

 

Of course, when we returned home and snuck up to our rooms to hide our foot-long stack of cards, mom immediately called us down to the living room where she asked us if we spent all our money.

 

We confessed and with our heads hung low, she demanded we bring her all the cards we just bought. Ugh. I returned to my room, grabbed half the stack (she wouldn’t know, right?) and returned to my fuming mother. She took them, tucked them by her side in the chair and told us to go to our rooms.

 

I figured she would crack within a day or two and return our treasure to us but I wound up being wrong. Very wrong. We didn’t see those cards for many, many months.

 

I don’t know if it was something good we did or if mom thought the lesson had played out, but after about three months, she called us onto to the porch where a locked cedar chest was and she proceeded to open it. Inside, she grabbed our stack of cards and returned it to us. I tried to take a gander at what else might be in that chest that was mine, but she quickly closed the top and secured the lock.

 

As she finally let loose her grip on our stack of cards, she looked us directly in the eye and said, “did you learn something from this?”

 

We certainly did.

 

It’s moments like this that both intimidated me and influenced me in regards to my mom. It’s days like that that occur — are forgotten at the time — but surface in our memories years later with much appreciation and delight.

 

I still have those cards and I’ll forever have this — and many other - fond memories of the most important woman I ever met.

 

Mother’s Day is about celebrating all of the mothers in our lives, living or dead, biological or not, and even the ones who provide nurturing homes for God’s little creatures.

 

This Mother’s Day is my tribute to my mom, her mom, my wife and to all my friends, sisters, nieces and aunts who are moms. 

 

My suggestion to you...Go buy a cedar chest.