Every Child of God
Mother's Day is kind of weird, isn't it? On the surface, it seems to be everything it professes to be: a day to celebrate our mothers in gratitude for all they've done for us.
But while all mothers sacrifice something to bring a child to life, giving birth to someone doesn't magically transform you into a loving, nurturing person. Some people are too tired to love their children. Too selfish, too proud, too busy, too...you name it.
On the flip side, you have mothers without children, who feel literal and figurative pain within their bodies at the emptiness that yawns like a gaping maw of sorrow and broken dreams.
Somewhere in the middle, if you're lucky, you're a mother, doing your best to be a good one and hoping your children love you well enough to celebrate you on Mother's Day.
I'm one of the lucky ones. After ten years of infertility, I gave birth to twin boys. I loved them as well as I could, and they are good to me. So good to me.
But every Mother's Day I think of the other mothers. The ones who've been abandoned. The ones with empty arms. And I think of the children with moms who don't want to be their moms, or with moms who are no longer living. I wish I could hug them all. Love them all.
Every child of god deserves to be loved.