EVERYBODY HAS A MOTHER

by

Wendel Potter

May 13, 2018

Mother's Day.  

Back home in Nebraska, when the lilacs are in full bloom and the fragrance sifts through the late Spring air...well, it must be Mother's Day.  

Lilacs come and go so quickly yet reach their glorious peak around Mother's Day.  You just know they were created by Mother Nature for mothers.

Somehow, flowers of any variety symbolize the essence of motherhood...growing, budding and bringing forth beauty for the world to see.

Just as every flower can be traced to its seed, every man and woman has a mother.  The vine of the child/mother relationship can wither over the years or maybe never take root for whatever reason.  People are people.

But you cannot deny that there is a mother behind every birth.

I, like so many of my friends, was fortunate to have a good mother who remains with me in my memories.   Mom cared for and about my siblings and me.  She did the best she could do and no one can be expected to do better than that.

My wife has been a tremendously caring and loving mother to our sons.  She told me this morning, "You helped make me a mother."

In the reproductive sense, yes.  But she is a good mother because she chose to be.  That is part of her instincts.  The boys are her blooms and the vine has never withered.

Our sons would agree.  They respect and love their mother and they could never be more respected and loved in return.

Bringing forth children in to the world is not easy in the physical sense.  That's just the way God made things. 

But to sweep the pain away when she holds that baby in her arms and promises to love and nurture that child is true Motherhood.

I saw that twice in our married life.  Both births were difficult.  But the love of mother for son never came easier.  It was a sight to behold.

The way I see it, Mother's Day doesn't just celebrate mothers.  It celebrates the bond between the vine and the bloom.  

If the vine is strong, the bloom will last forever.  That bond is apparent between our boys and my wife.

I knew a parish priest years ago.  His name was Father Ciurej.  He came from a hard working Polish family and he was close to his mother.

At Mass each Mother's Day, while the text of his sermons varied, the theme remained the same:  known or unknown, close or estranged...everybody has a mother.

For some the vine withers and the bloom pales.  For others, the vine is strong and the flower remains colorful.

No matter how things work out, it all begins with a mother.  And this day is for each and every one of them.  



 Copyright 2018 by Wendel Potter