I had the perfect mother. No kidding. I know that most people like to think that is the reality in their life, but I assure you what I say is true. Of course all human beings have failures, faults, and moments that defy explanation, but that need not destroy who they are and their humanity. Let me tell you about my mother. I was blessed to enjoy her presence well into my 60's and she and my father were married for almost 73 years, which is astounding.
She was the eldest child of immigrant parents. The world was just starting to recover from World War I and life was not easy. Because of my grandmother's health my mother was able to go to school only into the eighth grade. There would eventually be 10 other children and my grandmother needed help. Immigrants from Italy were poor and not always welcomed and my grandfather struggled to provide for the family. Items like shoes and clothing had to be shared and passed down to siblings and there were few extras to be enjoyed. As the children grew older, they pulled together and eventually enjoyed living in a wonderful three story house that gave their children and grandchildren many happy memories.
My mother met my dad when she was 16 and they eventually married. The depression years that they endured were very difficult. Then came World War II. While my father worked for the railroad and was considered a national security worker, my mother worked for a short time in a plant that had been converted to making bombs. In the meantime my sister and my brother and I were cared for by unmarried aunts and by grandparents. While it seemed that we always had plenty, there were many items that were simply unable to be obtained or the cost was prohibitive. It was a time of sacrifice and rationing. I well remember my parents forgoing some items so that the kids might have just a little more especially at Christmas time.
What made her a great mother is that even into her old age she was always available to her children and constantly poured out her love. If she had any bad habits, it was that she was a compulsive-obsessive house cleaner. My father liked to take spontaneous trips for ice cream or to go on a picnic, or just take a ride in the country. My mother would not go out of the house if there were one dirty coffee cup in the sink, because as she said: “What is the firemen have to come here to put out a fire? What might they think?” Her cleaning became legendary in the family and is still a happy topic of conversation.
She never cared for fancy things and items like jewelry. It seemed that she was more interested in what the children had to eat and wear than how she looked, and she took good care over the few “nice” things that she owned. For many years she suffered from a severe type of eczema that forced her to have her hands bandaged for long periods of time, yet this never slowed her in what she perceived as necessary chores. While she never completed school she insisted that her children always took classroom subjects seriously and excelled in them. When we were too young to read she always read stories to us and always went through our school assignments meticulously. She was an avid reader and a good listener and seemed to have the right advice when we freely brought our problems to her.
Other than visiting relatives in a nearby state we did not travel much. Later, when my twin brother and I had moved out of state, my parents began to travel so that they could be with us and enjoy our new homes, which my mother generally rearranged to suit her purposes, especially in the kitchen area. Even though we were separated by over a thousand miles most of the time, I managed to speak with my parents on a daily basis except for those times that I was traveling. As both parents began to age, I provided them with a cat and a dog and this gave them an added purpose in life now that all their children including a third son had moved on. At times this presented a burden but during our younger years we were permitted to share our lives with dogs and cats, something that I still continue to do today.
It is difficult to explain to describe a person in a few short words except that even into my old age I knew that I was loved by both parents and especially by my mother. It was never a love that was distant. Because of that I knew that I could always share my dreams and innermost thoughts with my mother without necessarily getting nor wanting her approval but always wanting and needing her love.
That kind of relationship is not always possible these days and sometimes we read about those few terrible mothers who abandon their children or worse. The truth is that those mothers are in the minority and have no idea what they are really missing except that in the end their lives will be full of misery and they will tragically have to go it alone.
Whoever thought of Mother's day had a good idea but we must never forget that there are also those who while not mothers do nurture and guide us with the same kind of love, simply because they care for us and our well being. Our response is simply to be that of quiet gratitude and to especially see to it that our mothers and fathers are cared for in their own age even when they seem to be trying our patience. More than likely they never complained about caring for us when we were infants and they never looked at us as intruders into their lives but instead as sources of joy.
Christians and others believe that when we fail to honor our parents we fail to honor God who provided them for us. One of God's commandments orders us to respect and obey (hear)* them at all times. Parents may at times suffer disappointment at what their children do or fail to do, but great parents never stop loving them. The world today is often one of disrespect. A celebration like Mothers Day reminds us that it need not be that way. --Ralph
* In Latin and Hebrew, the root word for obey and to hear are one and the same,
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