I’m late. I know Mother’s Day is over, but I’ve been thinking about the meaning of Mother’s Day since Sunday. It seems as though Mother’s Day ushered in spring. It’s been quite chilly in Chicago, but leading up to Mother’s Day the cool weather gradually gave way to a balmy perfect day to honor moms. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly with the slightest breeze that whispered that all was right in the world. God smiles on mothers. He loves them and so do we.
In 2015, in the United States alone, we spent 21.2 billion dollars for Mother’s Day—up 7% from 2014. Mother’s Day is the third largest retail holiday. We go all out to celebrate the mothers in our lives or to be celebrated if we are mothers ourselves. We do spa days and brunches. We buy flowers and candy and whatever will bring a smile to the face of the woman we know as Mother. Mom. Mama. Nana. Grandma.
My mother is simple. She just wants to see the faces of her children, grandchildren, and great grands. She wants to hear from the ones who live out of town. She loves cards--especially if they contain cash. She likes that we sit down and eat together and catch up. This year we celebrated the old hat mommies and the newbies as well as the matriarch. It was a good day.
And even though the day was over, what kept coming back to me was how to honor my mother beyond Mother’s Day. Through nature and nurture, my mother passed on some good stuff. Thanks to her, I think I turned out ok. Though we are different in many ways, I am definitely her child in a lot of ways. She married and had children. I did not. She loved to cook; I love to eat. But she taught compassion and respect. She showed me how to find my inner strength when life has thrown a fast curve and knocked me off my square. There’s so much to love and admire about the woman I call Mama.
Even though I’m a full grown woman, it still makes me feel good to make my mother proud. Every time I bring her an anthology I'm featured in or when I read her something I've written about her, I’m that little girl with the hand drawn picture taped on the refrigerator. I know that I am the woman I am largely in part to her.
So yea, another Mother’s Day is come and gone, but I have time every day to honor my mother and let the world know what it means to be Mattie's daughter.