While Mother's Day is past for another year, I continue to reflect on the sights and celebrations I have observed over this past weekend - about as many and varied as the lush Rhododendron blooms I captured on this morning's walk, all unique and different in small ways, but nonetheless beautiful to take in and enjoy and remember.
It all started at the garden center on Saturday. Middle-aged men shopping with elderly women, carrying out hanging baskets laden with blooms. Dads with all the kids loading up their wagons with every color of blooms imaginable. Sun or shade it did not matter - it's Mother's Day and we're planting flowers! I wondered about watering and fertilizing and pruning and I worried about the sun and shade plants together, knowing some might not make it.
Then I attended a book-signing and loved watching the family dynamics of a mother watch her son as he spoke about his book, read excerpts, and answer questions about his acclaimed work. She would glance from time-to-time at the grandson or the daughter-in-law, smile occasionally or look pensive. I love her and wanted to read her mind, wondering what she thought - her son who had spent the last eight years in study and research, and now the tangible fruit of his efforts. Pride, support, compassion, humor, wonder - all mingled up.
Sunday morning the young mother sitting in front of us received a rose for being the newest mother in our sanctuary. She held this little bundle and watched in wonder at this new life, all wrapped in love and possibilities. I, too, wondered what she was thinking - who will she become, where will life take her, will I be a good mother, and maybe a little fear and wonder mixed in.
And somewhere in all my observations, I watched myself participate in the day, enjoying brunch and attending a concert with my own adult children. They chose fun and different ways to honor me and I just showed up. How easy it has all somehow become. Grateful for those moments we have together. The homeless man was quick to remind me. We were coming out of the concert and there he stood with a wide, toothless smile just for me. "Happy Mother's Day," he offered. Were those tears in his eyes? He continued as I approached, "If I only had a few dollars to buy some flowers for my mother's grave..." I was already reaching for my wallet. While I doubt he left his street corner and rushed to his mother's grave, it did not matter. It was Mother's Day and he had thought of it.. Some mother had once loved and cared for him and besides, he had me at "Happy."
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