I have never been a huge fan of Mother's Day.
I don't know that I have ever really "celebrated" Mother's Day well.
(This is the worst part. Sometimes I don't remember to even call my mom on Mother's Day.)
Somehow, a day that seemed to be about cards and flowers and encouragement didn't seem to fit with my mother. And it's not because I don't like my mom, or love her, or whatever. It's a little bit like Valentine's Day, I suppose. I didn't see why this one day should be the day that I communicate appreciation for my mom.
So I have always been fairly ambivalent about Mother's Day. Until the last five minutes of this Mother's Day, when at 11:55pm I read The Radical History of Mother's Day.
The intent behind Mother's Day wasn't a day filled with well-planned brunches, breakfast in bed, and extravagant gifts. It wasn't about making proclamations that my mother is the best, or giving moms a "day off", or any of the commercial things that my mother wasn't really all that into anyway.
Mother's Day was intended to be a rallying cry for peace, a day "grounded in faith, feminism, and protest."
This sounds more like my mother. My mother would speak these words, would rise to this challenge.
"Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
“We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
My mother would feel more alive on a day when she was asked to stand for peace than any day she is asked to relax and eat a delicious brunch.
And I thank God that He has made her so. I thank God that she has taught me to follow the Prince of Peace, to cry out against injustice with compassion and mercy, to love those who may not often receive it. It may have taken 25 years, dear Becky, but thank you for teaching me charity, mercy, and patience. I hope the lessons you taught me, I may pass on.
My parents on a mission trip to Haiti.
