Mother Matters

    Now that my mother is dead, I no longer have the bittersweet feelings I used to toward Mother's Day. It was hard to celebrate being a mom without feeling the loss of that relationship with my schizophrenic mother. With my youngest child now 29, I guess what I really want to know from my grown children is, did I make a difference?

Did it make a difference in their lives that I was there to take them to school in the morning, pick them up in the afternoon? Or stay at school all day as a volunteer?
Did it matter that I came on their field trips? Brought treats for their birthdays? Planned parties?
Did they care that there were homemade cookies in the cookie jar? Home cooked meals? That I packed their lunches?
Do they remember the funny stories I read them at bedtime? And that sometimes I laughed so hard, Reed had to take over for me? That we prayed together when I tucked them in? That, when they were little, I sang them lullabies? Or sang doing housework? Or in the car?
Do they remember the games we played in the car while traveling? I Spy, or guess the theme song, 20 questions? That we built forts in the living room? Or pretended a blanket on the floor was a magic carpet?
Did the traditions I created matter? The doughnuts on pumpkin carving day? Christmas Eve fondue? Decorating the seasonal sugar cookies? The special plates I used for Sunday morning breakfast?
Did it make a difference that I took them to the library storytime? The free summer concerts in the park? Do they even remember going to the drive-in movies in their pajamas?
Were they glad the house was always clean enough to have guests over, even though I made them pick up their stuff? That there was always enough food for their last minute dinner guests?
Did it make a difference in their lives that when they said, "Watch me." I was there to do it? That I could love them in the ways I longed for growing up?

    I hope it mattered to them, because I know it mattered to me. It still matters to me, because motherhood is the highest calling God has ever given me and I wanted, and still want, to do it well. What I want for Mother's Day is not flowers, or cards or gifts, but that the children I'm so proud of remember something I did that made a difference, if only because, it makes them smile.