Mother's Day Thoughts

by Anna Arnett

After I got home from my shift at the temple, and as soon as I remembered it was my day to blog, I thought about Mother's Day, and spent most of the afternoon hunting for a poem, or at least a ditty, I once wrote.  I called it, "Mother's Day is not for Mothers."  It wasn't anywhere that I thought it should be.  
since it's out of sight and un-memorized, it keeps getting better in my mind. Enough so that I do hope it's not gone forever, like the reader's theater text I wrote to go with my music for a 45-minute presentation on the restoration.  I really don't want to have to write either of them all over again.  Just possibly they're both still on my old IBM computer on a high shelf down in the basement.

As a kid I couldn't figure out why my mother didn't like Mother's Day.  It was a fun day for me.  I drew a picture for her, and made some kind of present out of whatever material was at hand.  I pranced around singing "Oh, I Had Such a Pretty Dream, Mama," and told her what a wonderful mother she was, but I don't remember fixing dinner for her, or even washing up afterwards unless she made me. 

It took me a long while to realize how little she liked the holiday, but she finally confessed, "I don't like to hear my funeral oration before I'm dead."  That absolutely amazed me.

Until I became a mother.  Then I saw her point.

Just listen to the talks on Mother's Day.  They talk about all the wonderful sacrifices mother's and mother figures freely give, and how perfect they are.  

Or read Proverbs 31:10, to get the Old Testament view of  a virtuous woman.  She's one who works most all night and is up again before dawn, keeping a spotless house, managing a business,  carding, spinning, weaving, and creating luxurious clothing for her family and enough more to stock a boutique.  She works out at the gym for flexibility and lifts weights to keep her arms strong.  She probably takes college classes to keep up with the wisdom of the times.  In her spare time she's busy cooking gourmet meals, buying fields, planting vineyards, taking care of the poor, and the needy, while her husband sits at the gate and looks wise.

My husband read that whole passage to me one evening, somewhere around the middle of our temple mission in Australia.  I wondered why he'd suddenly read aloud, and concluded he was trying to tell me how great I was.  When he finished, he closed the book with a soft bang and spoke. 

"There you have it."

I have no idea what he really meant by that, but it felt like cold water thrown on my face.  I immediately bawled aloud and gushed enough tears to hardly distinguish his astonished face.  That's when I thought I knew how my mother felt.

After years of working on it, I found the key to love Mother's Day.  There are a few simple rules.

1.  Never think of myself as a mother on Mother's Day.  Think of my own mother, or Mother Eve.

2.  I have 364 other days every year to evaluate myself.  On this day don't even think of it.

3.  If I want some special gift on Mother's Day, like breakfast in bed, tell everybody. 

4.  Even so, expect nothing and be pleased with whatever comes my way.

5.  Realize that Mother's Day is not really for mothers.  It's for children.  It does our hearts good to think of our mothers, to thank them, and to bless them.

6.  Relax, and enjoy.

Right now, my greatest joy is that Mother's Day isn't tomorrow. I'm so sleepy at this moment that my head keeps jerking, and my eyes blur.  I'm slipping out of womanhood and back into childhood.  I resist sleep, occasionally drool, forget to flush, expect to be waited on, made a fuss over,  and loved.

Actually, it's quite fun.