My first mother’s day. Breakfast in bed? Lunch out? Sunshine? Walks around town? I think I have a new favorite holiday!
I had a talk with a friend this past week about how embarking on parenthood affects different people so differently. From some I have heard that having a baby changes everything. Everything. Right away. For some, the change is more gradual. There are some for whom having children doesn’t seem to change much at all. For me, it is a little bit of all of those, I suppose, though more the later than the first. We have a new member of our family. He has his own likes and dislikes, his own quirks and cranky moments. He has his own spirit and joy. Just like we all do. I love him, and I like having him around. That’s all there is to it, really.
Motherhood is an amazing thing. It really is. And I think it’s really something that so many of us mere mortals get to participate in something so BIG: creating and nurturing new life. What a vocation! It reminds me that there is a lot in life that is big and spectacular that we are invited to take part in.
For mother’s day, a poem by Wendell Berry.
To My Mother
by Wendell Berry
I was your rebellious son,
do you remember? Sometimes
I wonder if you do remember,
so complete has your forgiveness been.
So complete has your forgiveness been
I wonder sometimes if it did not
precede my wrong, and I erred,
safe found, within your love,
prepared ahead of me, the way home,
or my bed at night, so that almost
I should forgive you, who perhaps
foresaw the worst that I might do,
and forgave before I could act,
causing me to smile now, looking back,
to see how paltry was my worst,
compared to your forgiveness of it
already given. And this, then,
is the vision of that Heaven of which
we have heard, where those who love
each other have forgiven each other,
where, for that, the leaves are green,
the light a music in the air,
and all is unentangled,
and all is undismayed.