Today a mother will hold the hand of a son with a traumatic brain injury. She will talk to him and know deep within that he hears her. Her words will call to him and summon hope. Every cell of her being calls him to heal.
Today a mother of four boys will visit the grave of her own mother. She will sit in the rain and remember. Grief will mark her days. She bears the scars of the fall - of cells that have rebelled and gone their own way.
Today a mother prepares for another week of chemo. She checks the freezer for the meals brought by friends. Her daughter sits in her lap and she brushes the braids from her hair.
Today a mother will dial up her son on Skype. Her daughter runs through their front yard and dark curls bounce. She lives in Honduras and the son in Illinois. This is the first Mother’s Day she will not greet her own mother and thank her.
Today a mother will call her son. For 40 years plus they were separated. She chose life. She chose another family to raise him. They found each other.
Today a mother will cry into her pillow. Her daughter is lost. Will she come home?
Today as I thought about mothers - myself, my own, my living grandmother and the women who have mothered me - I pondered the failures and the victories.
These are all true stories of people I know. Mothers fight for their kids. Mothers search until they are found. Mothers sacrifice, clean, cook, love and mold. No one impacted my story like my mother. No one continues to call me up to a higher standard of love than my own children.
Today I thought of my children as arrows. Weapons in a spiritual war. I asked God for the strength to love them well and to launch them.