I wrote a poem about the complexity of Mother’s Day and read it at the Parish. I was encouraged to share, so I’m posting it here (see below or PDF link).
Blessed are the mothers
Blessed are the mothers who married, carried, and delivered.
Blessed are the mothers who never married, nor carried, nor delivered.
Blessed are the mothers who miscarried.
Blessed are the helicopter, nurturer, naturalist, perfectionist, unpredictable, and wine moms.
Blessed are the mothers who respite, foster, or adopt.
Blessed are the mothers who run a daily, Fortune 500 company-level logistics to coordinate drop off, lunch, pickup, practice, dinner, bath, and bed.
Blessed are the mothers who always run just a little bit late.
Blessed are the mothers with their delicately crafted glass candy bowls.
Blessed are the mothers who have been smoking for decades and can hold a cigarette with their outstretched bottom lip.
Blessed are the mothers in a stable home with marble kitchen countertops and a full line of Caraway cookware.
Blessed are the mothers on the run, in slavery, or being trafficked.
Blessed are the mothers with and without legal documentation for the governmental construct that has been created to regulate the place they call home.
Blessed are the mothers who have had kids pass away, always too soon.
Blessed are the mothers we can sit and listen to on the phone for 45 minutes of continuous talk about the work day, neighbors, and crazy sisters.
Blessed are the mothers whom we wish we could pick up the phone and have just one more talk with.
Blessed is the mother whose kid once played with bars, but is not behind them.
Blessed is the mom who earns more than her husband and is still responsible for completing all “motherly” tasks at home.
Blessed are the mothers who drop out of the “workforce” to be the backbone of their family and our community.
Blessed are the mothers who are queer, trans, or lesbian.
Blessed are all mothers.