reflections on mother’s day

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I skipped church.  It’s the one day out of the year I don’t fit in, and I’m reminded of it.  It’s not so much the fact that I’m not a mother — that doesn’t bother me — it’s other people’s perceptions that I should be that do.

You know how it is at a church on a Mother’s Day.  All of the mothers are asked to stand.  Everyone shares how many children they have.  All of the grandmothers are asked to remain standing.  The one with the most gets a prize.

One year, carnations were given out to all of the mothers.  It was a small church, and it was pretty obvious I was the only non-mother.  I did not need to be included, and I was not offended.  However, a woman who probably had great kindness in her heart strongly insisted that I take a carnation if only to honor my own mother.  How can you argue with that sentiment?

I declined.

It’s not that I don’t love my mother.  I do, and she knows it.  The carnations were supposed to go to the mothers, and I didn’t need an exception to be given one.  I did not need her pity.

I know I’m not a failure, and I should have still gone to church yesterday.  Perhaps I’m a little irrational this time of the year, and especially sensitive this year, but that’s just how it was this Mother’s Day.


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