On Mothering

Mothers are not just those women who bear children.

Mothers are not just those who adopt children.

Mothers are those who desire children, who love children, who care for children not their own.

Mothers are the women in our lives who bend down to talk with our children and look them in the eye.

Mothers are the women who bring meals to the sick and needy among us.

Mothers are the women who nurture us in so many different ways, showing God's love to all of God's children.

This mother's day is for all of us. All of you.

Happy Mother's Day!

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I Am the Lucky One

Down by the lake
in your three year old
rock kitchen,
you made me breakfast,
scrambled eggs, toast, sausage.
We both cup hot coffee
in our hands,
taking imaginary sips.
I am the lucky one.

Hide and seek with the spiders,
bread for ducks,
we watch the lapping water,
unnoticed, from between our
crevassed hiding places,
while others pass quickly by
on their way to "real" jobs.
I am the lucky one.

Autumn the time of your birth
reminds me, "This day shall
not be your burden, but your delight."
I don't know where I'm going or
where I'll be when you're grown,
but right now,
I am the lucky one.

We go to the city
stop for a treat, chips and slurpies.
Mine go down quickly, thoughtlessly,
while I delight in your company,
Salty fingers and red mouth,
you're in no hurry.
Shoppers smile at your good-natured ways.
I am the lucky one.

A day of errands, I need a book.
No one notices, amused, as I do,
how you sit in the window ledge,
warmed by the sun,
among much older readers
in the bookseller's shop.
Your face holds the same serious
expression as theirs, while you read
a ghostly tale, upside down.
I am the lucky one.

Errands finished, we're back outside.
Silently, we bend forward.
Watching the birds among the rose bushes
you learn about rose hips, thorns,
and birds' preferences for crumbs
rather than bagel chunks.
Harried passersby pause, your joy
in the ordinary, contagious,
as you balance on stone benches.
I am the lucky one.

The day is done.
I tiptoe to your room.
Tucking you in, I kiss
your sleeping face
and whisper thanks for the day.
To my own bed I pad
feeling gratitude to God
and wondering why
I am the lucky one.

By Michelle Tobin

Photo credit