For Love

Although today is Father's Day, I've actually been thinking a lot about what being a mother means to me. I suppose this pondering mood of mine was partly inspired by something that happened in the early hours of Saturday morning.

On Friday night my oldest son, Ryan, stopped by with a friend to chat and eat a mom-made sandwich. He and his friend left at nearly 11:00 pm and I turned in for a night of restful slumber. At 2:50 am the phone rang. I can tell you that having had a son who served in Iraq for a year created a conditioned response to phones ringing in the middle of the night---sheer terror! And even nearly two years after his safe return I still experience the "heart in the throat", "knots in the stomach" panic when awakened by that sound.

Ryan in Amarah, Iraq

As it turned out, Ryan was suffering from "welder's flash", or photokerititis. It is a very painful inflammation of the cornea caused by the UV light of the welder's arc and is just one of the many hazards involved in welding. Ryan works for a company that manufactures various equipment used in road construction, bridge building, etc. and recently, among other things, became a certified welder----just one more thing for mom to worry about! On Friday he had welded for nearly 11 hrs. and, so, was most certainly in a right place to develop this condition.

Ryan managed to call me (thank goodness for speed-dial) and say he needed some help. I took a few minutes to "Google" for some information on home-treatment and discovered that potato slices or used chamomile tea bags placed on the eyes then covered with a cold washcloth were the recommended remedies. Taking just enough time to throw on some clothes and with washclothes and potatoes tossed in a bag, I headed out the door without a second thought.

When I arrived, Ryan was lying on the sofa in a pitch-dark room. I turned on the light in the kitchen so I could at least get an idea what I was dealing with----his eyes were swollen shut and so red! After several hours spent trying to alleviate my son's suffering, we finally found some success and he rested comfortably. I drove home tired but happy that I was able to help. I am still a little amazed that, once again, nature provides so much of what we need and that something as simple and ordinary as a potato could relieve such immense burning pain.

As I drove home my tired mind wandered to various instances where my abilities as a mom were the only thing that would do. I thought about the boys as little children with skinned knees, hurt feelings, and broken toys. I thought, too, about the many letters and care packages sent to Ryan in Iraq over the course of a very long year and how it helped me feel connected to a child who was in harm's way. I thought about long converations with my son, Matthew, concerning the book he is writing and spending hours reading chapters and then editing them at his request.

Matthew at Clam Beach

Regardless of what others might say, I firmly believe that boys (and grown men!) long for their mamas when they are hurting or in need, or when they just need to get something 'off their chest', so to speak. Blessed is the mother whose sons still request her presence when they are old enough to care for themselves. I am so honored to be a part of my boys' lives.

Alex at the Corn Maze

The word love is SO misused that I believe we've lost touch with all the meaning it encompasses when attached to other human beings. We love everything from ice cream to cars, but I don't believe I hear the word used often enough to describe how we feel about one another, especially within the family. It was a mother's love that drove me to my son's house at 3:00 am Saturday morning and it was a mother's love that helped another son study for tests and it is a mother's love that causes me to listen to my youngest son talk for hours about his favorite wrestlers even though wrestling just isn't my thing. Mothering is a labor of love---not to say that we will always be amazing moms who always get everything right, never yell, are never selfish, and are wise beyond measure with all the right answers. As a matter of fact, I fail often! I am saying, though, that love is what motivates us to keep trying and to teach our children to do the same. It is love, not perfection, that makes each of us shine.

I am convinced that parents need their children and children need their parents.....always. Being a mother, a parent, isn't a task that ends when a child turns 18. Of course our children need to strike out on their own-----make mistakes, learn about themselves and the world they live in, enjoy successes-----and we need to stand aside and let them grown into their skin. But, we should also be available to assist when asked (and learn to be quiet when not asked-----I will admit that one's SO difficult for me sometimes!!!) and to love them as they walk down whatever road they choose to take, cheering them on all the while. Like in all our relationships, it is wise and right to give to our children without expecting anything in return. When we give simply for love's sake we can then quietly say, "Truly, my cup runneth over".

"Before you were conceived, I wanted you. Before you were born, I loved you. Before you were here an hour, I would die for you. This is the miracle of love."

~~~Maureen Hawkins~~~

"A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket."

~~~Alan Marshall Beck~~~