With Mother’s Day upon us and being a deep thinker and a person with the need for reflection, I wanted to share some things that have been meaningful to me as a daughter, as a mother, as I watch my daughter mother my grandchildren, as a step-daughter and as a daughter-in-law.

Women make the world go round. Literally. Yes, men certainly are important and that’s a topic for another time. But women … the juggling of careers, children, our homes and extended family, well, where would the world be without us?

I think back on my grandmothers, both raised nine and ten children while their husbands farmed. I can’t even imagine, other than with ten kids, the older ones took care of the younger ones while Granny put up vegetables, canned pickles and tomatoes, not to mention using a washboard to wash clothes. There was no air conditioning nor a bathroom. Having to use an outhouse was appalling to me when we visited but that was their way of life. Later in life, when times were better, I remember my uncle came home with a microwave for Granny. Being a woman who always spoke her mind, she looked at him and said, “And what do think I’m gonna do with that? Take it back!” He did not … but she never used the darn thing.

Yes, I come from a lineage of strong, outspoken, independent women. And I’m quite proud of it.

Now as I see my aged, 95 year old mother-in-law, I marvel at the stories she tells of growing up in little, old Cayce, MS. She tells stories of kerosene lamps and her mama sewing all her clothes because they were so poor. She had a cat named Damn It … named because she wanted to cuss and it just wasn’t ladylike to do so. I get tickled when she talks about her sister, “the good child who never did anything wrong and had a heart problem”. As the story goes, Cacky never had to lift a finger because of her “heart problem” and so my mother-in-law had to do all the chores. My mother-in-law is the matriarch of the family. Until her later years, whereby hearing loss and dementia are problems for her, it was her house her three sons and their families would gather for holiday meals throughout the years. A very strong woman of faith who is quick to tell you about her many blessings, some of which are how successful her boys became and not a one of them went astray, she says, Bubba as we call her, has always had complete respect from her family. I admire her long life of devotion to her church and commitment to her family and community.

My sweet mama, the sixth child of nine, met and married my daddy when she was fifteen. And no, she was not pregnant. She was poor and was hoping for something more than farm living. Daddy was in the Air Force and shortly after they married, they received orders to move to Germany. Two years later I was born. I think of it now and I believe I would have skinned my children alive if they ran off with a man at fifteen. And I’d be willing to bet my mama and daddy would have skinned me alive had I done that. Can’t even imagine … my mama, a poor farm girl living in a foreign, non-English speaking country with no friends at seventeen with a fussy baby girl. Lord, lord.

Growing up my parents wanted better for me and it was expected that I make excellent grades in school in order to be able to go to college. And that’s exactly what I did. Although I was not a perfect child, after all I did spend all the money momma gave me for candy at the store in Germany on me when I was supposed to buy some for my little brother too, for the most part I was obedient and always wanted to please. To this day I still suffer from “the disease to please” and I am a rule follower and have little patience for rebellion and disobedience, which I consider a sign of disrespect. I was taught to obey … period. I didn’t realize until I had children of my own it’s somewhat “abnormal” for children to be so obedient. It made parenting my children a little difficult.

I always knew I wanted children. Two children. God gave me two girls. With my husbands busy work schedule, I accepted the challenge of raising two children. I’m grateful I could be home with them and raise them “right”. Was I ever in for a surprise! Child rearing, I quickly learned, is not for sissies.

Nighttime feedings left me so sleep deprived I was grumpy all the time. Fast paced schedules of gymnastics and dance and competition cheerleading left me worn out trying to get from one place to another, get home, homework, dinner and bedtime accomplished without tears – from the girls AND by me.

My husband came home one night and as I was standing over the stove, a wooden spoon in one hand (stirring the spaghetti sauce) and a glass of wine in the other, he had the nerve to say, “I am noticing a trend with you these days … glass of wine in hand when I get home”. I whipped around from that stovetop and pointed that sauce dripping spoon at him and said … “YOU stay home with these hooligans everyday and then we will talk about wine at the bewitching hour!” (Let us not forget that I came from a long line of outspoken women!)

But I adored my girls – dressing them in cute clothes and bows in their hair, dance recitals, cheering, volleyball and softball games. Their teenage years nearly did me in … you know, the rebellious thing I alluded to, but oh how I would tear up when I would quietly sneak into their rooms at night and watch them peacefully sleeping and thank God for giving them to me and praying I was a good mama. Still get teary eyed to this day when I think about how much I love them.

Now one of my little girls is a momma herself. I watch her from a distance and see how very different her life is compared to how mine was raising kids. She doesn’t have the choice I did. She has to work. And it breaks my heart when I see her cry trying to figure out how she’s gonna pay bills on a meager salary and still be able to pay for softball gear and summer camps. Just like my parents and just like me, she wants better for her babies. I see her anxieties and fears and struggles and sometimes I don’t even know how to help. As in my aging years with health issues, I’m just not always the help I need and want to be.

I am praying one day my youngest daughter will have the joys of becoming a member of this club, if she so chooses. The love for your children is truly unlike any other love you will ever know. It’ll be the hardest job she will ever have but it will be the most rewarding of any job she ever had. Should she choose not to join this club, though, she has a niece and nephew she already pours love into when she is able to do so.

And finally – my dear step-mother. When my mother died, my father was very lonely. He moved back to the town he grew up in. And fell in love with my second momma. I feel as if I am a voyeur though when I visit. I am so grateful for her – her strength of taking care of her ill former husband, and now loving and taking care of my daddy, two beautiful daughters of her own, and grandchildren and I am somewhat saddened that I no longer have that. When you read the Bible passage … Proberbs 31:28 … “and her children will rise up and call her blessed; her husband also and he praiseth her” this is where you will find my second momma’s name. I don’t believe I have ever seen a family so close, tight knit. She is revered. Her word is gospel. And not only do her children and grandchildren worship her, her entire community recognizes her strength and generosity in her church and in her business that she still oversees at the age of 86 – a Personal Care Home, which is somewhat like an assisted living facility. I visit and her entire family gathers around, so much love for her and for one another. I admire that yet at the same time, there are times I will walk away with tears in my eyes longing to be a true member of that family of love.

My grandmothers, my mother, my second momma, my mother-in-law, my daughter, myself. All strong women. We had to be. The world doesn’t give us moms a choice. We rise to the occasions, we protect, nurture, we cry, we will fight for our babies, certainly not without fears and anxieties and lots of moments on our knees in prayer. We work jobs. We are the chauffeur, the dishwasher, cook, errand running worn out and wrung out dishrags at the end of the day, but we are women. We are strong. We are proud to be mothers!

Happy Mother’s Day to us all!