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by Teresa Kindred


    Yes, mother’s day comes and goes. But the memories linger and remain...

“The woman who creates and sustains a home and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a creator second only to God.” —Helen Hunt Jackson

    Mother’s Day has been difficult for me since my mother died of cancer in 1990. There are many things I miss about her, but what I miss the most is sharing my children with her.

    Sometimes I get a twinge of sadness because I was never able financially to give her even a tiny fraction of what she gave me. My Mother’s Day gifts to her were usually inexpensive, a pair of new pajamas, a new purse. Then I realize that my love was the only gift she ever really wanted.

    I was reminded of that yesterday when my seven year old thanked me for his birthday presents. “Mom,” he said, ”do you know which gift I liked best?”

    I imagined it would be the super-soaker water gun, guaranteed to shoot up to fifty feet, the one he used to squirt his sister, the dog, and me. But that wasn’t what he said.

    “It’s the love you gave me Mom,” he stated, then ran off to play.

...my love was the only gift she ever really wanted.
    I stood frozen with my mouth open and the tears sliding down my face, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed with how wonderful motherhood can be. How I longed to pick up the phone and call the person who was not only my mother, but also my best friend, to tell her that the love she gave me now lives on in her grandchildren. But I couldn’t.

    Her love for me lives on in other ways too. It visits me in the spring when the flowers she planted a few months before she died bloom. It comes to me from her former students when they write me letters, or take the time to tell me what a wonderful teacher she was.

    And so each Mother’s Day I have a host of bittersweet memories. I rejoice that in a world of abused and abandoned children, I had a mother who loved me, nurtured me, and taught me right from wrong. And I cry, because I miss her friendship, her strength, her humor, and her love for my children.

    There is a creed in Robert Fulghum’s wonderful book, All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten. It is called the “Storytellers Creed” and I asked the minister to read at Mama’s funeral. It says in part...

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.
That dreams are more powerful than facts.
That hope always triumphs over experience
That laughter is the only cure for grief.
And I believe that love is stronger than death.
      —Robert Fulghum

    Love really is stronger than death because it comes from God, and it is because of God and His sacrifice, that we have hope of life eternal. And then there will be no more goodbyes, because like the old hymn says there will be “no tears in heaven.”

      © 2001, Teresa Kindred. Used by permission.

      Title: ""
      Author: Teresa Kindred
      Publication Date: May 13, 2001


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