Ah, Mother’s Day. Breakfast in bed, clumsily wrapped presents, a fistful of drooping violets: a priceless day for the perfect mother. Yes, that’s what I set out to be. Thirty years ago, I was determined to be the best mother ever. I would breast-feed, make my own baby food, read to my sons at least twice a day, and create the perfect home for my precious children. Even though Robert Munsch’s beloved words wouldn’t be written until Greg and Drew were 5 and 3, I knew instinctively that I would love them forever and like them for always.
It didn’t take too long for me to discover that I had a rather skewed view of motherhood. While an old Salvation Army song may have promised that “there’s an angel in the house, when there’s love at home,” a colicky first-born quickly disavowed me of my resemblance to any angelic being. I soon found that while I might love my sons forever, there were times when I wasn’t sure that I liked them very much – such as when their newborn clocks insisted that 2 a.m. was a perfectly good time to be up for 2 hours, and later when their teen-age clocks thought that 2 a.m. was a perfect time to sneak out of the house. Come to think of it, the issue wasn’t about liking them for who they were – it was about being concerned over what they did.
And that, says the preacher within, will preach. God loves us forever – in fact, we can make a case that God even likes us “for always.” Jeremiah said as much: “I have loved you with an everlasting love,” while Zephaniah teaches that God “takes great delight in you.” While I hope and pray that I will love my children forever and that nothing they will ever do will keep me from loving them, God promises to love us no matter what. And as much as I love my children, God loves far beyond that love (see I John 3).
Yet the picture isn’t quite complete. “As a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wings,” said Jesus, “I have longed to gather your children together.” A beautiful sentiment had he stopped there, but scripture adds another phrase: “but you were unwilling” (Matthew 18). Yes, God longs for us to be content under the mother hen’s wings, but God does not force us to gather there – or to stay there. Therein lies the pain of a mother’s heart, indeed, of the heart of God. Love doesn’t bind – it only can offer, extend, reach out, touch.
That’s the irony of a parent’s love. Despite the flowery sentiments strewn across the racks of Mother’s Day cards, true love isn’t syrupy-sweet and is seldom as perfect as the card-writers suggest.
In the midst of our Mother’s Day celebrations, there will be mothers whose sons have run away and whose daughters are estranged from them. There will be mothers with empty arms and aching hearts. For every mother who sits in the pew this Sunday surrounded by three or four generations of her family, there will be mothers who sit alone. That’s the reality of life.
Love given is not always returned.
Somehow mothers know that, yet love anyway. A mother’s wisdom recognizes the truth of the Swedish proverb: “Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.” And even more, as Salvation Army song-writer John Gowans reminds us: “If human hearts are often tender, and human minds can pity know – then how much more shall God our Father in love forgive, in love forgive!”
Major JoAnn Shade ministers with her husband Larry as the corps officers and Directors of the Ray and Joan Kroc Corps Community Center. She received a B.A. in sociology from S.U.N.Y. at Binghamton, a M.A. in Pastoral Counseling, and a Doctor of Ministry degree from Ashland Theological Seminary in June, 2006. She is a prolific writer, lecturer, and busy counselor and has been a valued contributor to this blog since its inception.
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