Mother’s Day

What is the important gift you have received from a mother figure in your life?

I have just completed reading a collection of essays What My Mother Gave Me: Thirty one women on the gifts that matter most.  As I read through these, some stories are so sad, while others resonate with me in surprising ways.

Karen Karbo’s essay, titled White Gloves and Party Manners, immediately brought a smile to my face.  See, my mom had purchased this book for her daughters.  In fact, as I was clearing out some books from my parent’s home, I took this for my teenage daughter, whom I am sure has not looked at it.  It gave me hope, however, that there will be a time when she will look to that book, and if not read it as a bible, at least smile that I cared to give it to her.

In Abigail Pogrebin’s essay, Never Too Late, she explains how as an adult she chose to have a bat mitzvah. She briefly described her mother’s conflicting relationship with the religion and how this led her to not pass on traditions and the difficulty of that choice.  This hit close to home. While I have strong opinions of a woman’s place in the world, in every religion a woman is treated as a second class citizen.  This has impacted me on what I want to pass on, and how, to my children.

The essay that impacted me the most, however, was The Broken Vase by Reverend Lillian Daniel.  In her mother’s collection of items from a life around the world, the one piece of pottery that she called “the most valuable piece of pottery in the house” was powerful.  Her father was coming home to them in Japan, with a gift of pottery for her mother.  As he approached the house, 4 year old Lillian ran to meet him, and in his excitement to catch her in his arms he dropped the vase.  Her mother took it and immediately glued it together as best she could.  It was always prominently displayed and reminded her of the love the two had.  She goes on that her mother always looked for the good in what was there, in all situations, even when the cooking was not as good as the presentation.  I will keep that in mind when I am doing holidays going forward, to try to take it all in stride.

As for the broken pottery, I myself have a teapot that fell and broke.  I had not used it in ages, but my grandmother had given me tea with this beautiful tea set when I came to visit with her.  She got out of her deathbed and packed it up for me the night before she passed.  This last essay let me remember that even though there is a small hole in the teapot, the love that brought it to me, and that I see whenever I look at it, will always remain unbroken.

Happy Mother’s Day.