
Thoughts on Mother’s Day by Renee McClean
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When I was doing my research on the origins of Mothers’ Day, I was disabused of the belief that it was a purely American holiday when I learned that there were connections to the Greek and Roman goddesses, Rhea and Cybele or that it later had roots in the Christian Church, when the fourth Sunday of Lent was dedicated as “Mothering Sunday” for followers to return to their “mother Churches”. And the Roman Catholic Church has always hailed Mary, the mother of our Lord and Savior as the Queen of Heaven and the Mother of the Church. My earliest recollections of its origins was in the wake of the Civil War. In 1868, the mothers of both Confederate and Union troops called for a “Mothers Friendship Day”, to promote reconciliation because loss is universal, no matter who participated. In 1873, Julia Ward Howe, the author of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” , campaigned for “Mother’s Peace Day” to promote global peace. When a nation losses 600,000 men, sons, husbands, brothers, fathers, the scars are deep and the pain is endless. Mothers are always the ones to call for healing and an end to bloodshed.
In 1912, on the eve of the first World War, Anna Jarvis successfully lobbied for the adoption of Mother’s Day as a national holiday and the second Sunday of May was designated for its commemoration. Sunday, the day of rest, not a weekday, when rest was truly appreciated as other holidays occupy, And the next day, Monday, is the return to work for all, appropriately reminding us, that a mother’s work is never done.
When I was a child and we made gifts for our mothers in school in Art class. We did it in the spirit of gratitude for all our mothers did; their selflessness and sacrifices. But it wasn’t until I became a mother myself, that I truly understood what was celebrated but not observed by the outer world. When I gave birth to our first son, Alex, a transformation occurred. Alex not only transformed David and me from being a couple to being a family. He changed our purpose for being. But more fundamentally, he forever changed my understanding of love. Love of our family, our spouse , is completely different. The love of our children is an abyss of unconditional love that we had never experienced. It is an irrational impulse to do whatever one can to protect, sooth pain, work 4 jobs to pay the tutor, nay kill any threat to our precious babies. And sadly, it is a double-edged sword because it is a sentence to endless worry. Even as they age, we still see the vulnerable person we brought into the world and can’t help but offer to help even at the slightest hint that they may need something. One time, when Alex was leaving our home after a visit to return to his home, I asked him to text me when he arrived. He said, “Mum, when are you going to stop worrying about me?” I replied, “ Oh Lord, Alex I wish I could! It’s exhausting worrying about you and Nick. Not because I don’t have faith in you. I don’t have faith in this crazy world I brough the two of you into! When will I stop worrying? When I close my eyes and never have to open them again, then it will be done.” That is our love for our children, because a Mother’s work is never done until it’s done.
On this Mother’s Day, let us pray for the Israeli and Palestinian mothers who have lost their children, and the children who have lost their mothers and like the mothers of those who fought and lost their lives to unite our country over 150 years ago, let us pray for an end to the bloodshed.