This is the third post in my “Remembering Backwards” series. On Mother’s Day, I remember my mom.
I might have been 27, a young teacher, working in San Diego. Mother’s Day was a bit discouraging for me. Jeff and I had been trying to start a family for a few years. No pregnancy had blessed us. My friends, my sister… everyone else seemed expectant. We waited. I cared for others’ children. I wanted to trust God. But the promise that if I delighted in Him, He would give me the desire of my heart, (Psalm 37:4) seemed difficult for my young faith to grasp.
Each year, my hometown, Davis, hosted a big event called Whole Earth Day. This was the time for all the middle-aged hippies and the young retro-hippies like me to meet on the UCD campus area and enjoy a festive spring day. Mom and I had a yearly habit of celebrating Mother’s Day this way. I flew up on a budget Southwest Airlines flight for a weekend with my dear friend. She and I always laughed together that though we only had a few days, we would make it feel like enough. It always did!
We stayed up late in the night sharing teacher stories. We sang silly songs. She insisted on treating me to handmade earrings at the Whole Earth fair. We wandered around the campus tasting interesting food, listening to ethnic music and greeting her many students here and there. I never considered that it was Mother’s Day but she was giving to me. She told me my presence was her gift. I believed it.
That year, the rain had been generous to Mom’s garden. On Sunday, when we went out front, we saw her rose bush “exploding” with flowers. It was out of control with beauty! Laughing together, we loaded a rusty, old metal wagon, the same one she used to pull me as a child through the neighborhood, with the amazing blooms. Then we wheeled down her street, knocking on doors and delivering bouquets to all of the mothers on her block. Joining in with her joyful generosity took me outside of myself. My longings for motherhood evaporated as we adventured in giving together.
Thirty years have come and gone. Now I see Mother’s Day from a different perspective. The heartache of childlessness was replaced with joy and chaos of four energetic children. Now they are grown. My heart often struggles to trust the One who holds their lives in His hands. The desire of my heart is for them to delight in Him.
I step outside my front door. A few cheerful flowers are alive and well. I don’t have nearly enough for a wagon load, yet each happy color reminds me of the lady who shared her garden with the whole neighborhood of mothers that day.
I reach up and touch my handmade earrings . Emme, my amazing artist daughter presented them with a hand drawn card today before church. They are simple and perfect. I smile to think my children know I love the homemade things best. This too comes from my mom.
She has moved on. Three years ago, the weekend of Mother’s Day, she traveled Home. Now, her joy is complete.
I want to keep her legacy alive as daughter and mama. I want to live joyfully, generously, spontaneously as the days keep rolling on. There never seems to be much time, but I pray, “Let it be enough.” Let me comfort the sad hearted. Let me spread cheer and joy as my garden explodes with hope. Let my children know that their hearts will be satisfied as they learn to delight in the Lord.
