Tag Archive: children

A Mother’s Heart

It’s Mother’s Day here in the USA. Why should we bother to continue this day of remembrance?

Well for one thing, we all have mothers. Mothers are indispensable, a necessity whether they are our biological, adopted, or spiritual mothers. Mother’s care, or at least they should. A mother who abandons her children, we recognize as ill, or abnormal. Why, because mother’s are supposed to be the ones, when everyone else forgets, stops caring, or loving, continues despite all odds.

They love us even when we are angry at them, spiteful, mean, hateful. Their hearts can take a licking and still keep loving. Teens in particular, know how to aim for and hit the mark of their mother’s hearts to inflict the most damage. This is usually due to hurting pretty badly themselves and testing to see if they are still lovable. Mom’s come through despite these potentially mortal wounds. A mother’s heart is nearly indestructible.

Mothers who have suffered infertility and the death of a child are some of the strongest women I know. The pain of loosing or never knowing a child is the deepest kind of pain. Even children who wonder off, are never forgotten and always prayed for and welcomed home.

God knew what He was doing when he created a mother’s heart. He had a pretty special model to create a mold from too- The Blessed Virgin Mary. Now there was heart that loved without limit, suffered the extremes humanity had to offer and Divinity required of it.

Mother Mary, pray for all mothers. Those who kill their unborn, hurt, or abandon their children. Help those whose hearts are so broken in all the suffering a mother has to undergo. Fill us with abundant grace so that we, like you, may love harder through the most extreme situations. In imitation of you, we should run to the source of Love Itself, there we can find a limitless, unfathomable love.

For women yearning to be called mom.

For the mothers of sick children.

For the mothers of starving children.

For the mothers of lost, addicted, and broken children.

For the mothers whose children have forgotten, abandoned, or ignored them.

For the mothers who can’t forgive, and won’t forgive.

For the old mothers desperate to see their children again, hold them, and unite with them.

For the tired, sick, dying mothers alone in their despair.

Mother Mary, Mother of All, Queen of Heaven and Earth- wrap your mantel around all mothers that we may always be a model of your motherhood.




Flashback in Time

We were driving to a family event the other day with several of the kids in tow. Kids in this context refer to a seventeen, twenty and twenty-three year old. My dessert was carefully stowed in the back of our suburban. The back-seat inhabitants were safely plugged in to their ipods to avoid communication with each other or us.  We had just picked up Andrew from work, and saddled with his lunch bag he jumped in. I made the suggestion he put the bag in the back. With a flick of his wrist he let it fly. In that instant I had a flashback of an incident 15 years earlier.

Back then we lived in Illinois. I operated a small catering business from home to help make ends meet. My husband was frequently out of town, so deliveries included dragging along five young kids.  The flashback involved a birthday cake delivery on a snowy winter day. After securing the cake, and loading up the clan, we were off.  As was typical with my loving children, moments into any trip, an argument would break out.  It was always something critical to their existence, like who was smarter or the color of snow.  In an act of utter defiance, five-year-old Andrew chucked his shoe to the back where the cake was.  It was one of those slow-motion moments in life I watched unfold through the rear view mirror. I knew where the shoe was headed and there was nothing I could do to stop it. NOOOO-oooooooo, I screamed.

At the first opportunity I pulled over, trudged through the snow, and opened the door. A little brown shoe, size four, lay in the cake.  The van was so quiet, you could hear the snow fall as they awaited the aftershock.  I can’t exactly recall what transpired, but suffice it to say, I still have five children.

That little catering business grew out of my overzealous need to volunteer at the kid’s school. Organizations can see my type coming a mile away.  I imagine the word sucker is stamped on my forehead or something oblivious to me and obvious to them.  I am convinced; I wasn’t born with a NO gene. I seem to have some sick need to say yes to practically any request.  In fact, most of my sentences either begin or end with: yes, sure, when do you need it done or absolutely.

After many years of volunteering I launched my own catering business, which helped bring in a few extra bucks. Let me emphasize the word few here.  Catering at home with five young children under ten, is something only a psycho yes-person like myself attempts.

Once when catering an afternoon tea for a neighbor, I had run out of preparation time.  My assistant, four-year-old Becky, was standing on a chair beside me. She was tired of observing and wanted to help. “I want to hep, can I hep?” The last of the whipping cream was mixing when she grabbed a stick of butter and threw it into the bowl. AHHH-hhhhhh! I screamed.  After gently removing her off of the chair, I sent it airborne back to the dining room.  At that exact moment my neighbor’s husband was peeking in the door to render any last minute assistance. Explaining the wooden projectile to a father of 6 was easier than I thought.

Another memorable winter delivery involved sliding into a ditch only moments from the destination.  The recipients happened to be driving by and stopped long enough to pick up the First Communion cake, and drive off.  One must question what compelled me to continue?

Catering was a crazy time in our life and I am happy to report that the experience didn’t scar the kids too badly. Little Becky is a trained chef and Andrew is suffering only occasional flashbacks from his childhood.

As far as my flashbacks, I still get them from time to time and simply smile to myself or go find a dark corner to cry in.