Today marks my second Mother’s Day as a mom. Last year our little bundle of energy was still unborn, but he was starting to show. This year he made my day just by being his smiley babbling self.
There was a time when I resented being called “mom.” My siblings used to use it as a derogatory term when I was acting too bossy. We were all too young to recognize the unselfish, serving nature of the role, of course. Perhaps that takes a lifetime as a parent to fully comprehend–and live out.
As of late, the day gives me pause to remember the women in my life who filled in some of the gaps that were left after Mom’s death. Grandma would be at the top of the list, followed by some of my Sunday School teachers and others at church. I owe them a gratitude that’s not easy to express. Indeed, some of them are no longer around to hear or read my feeble attempts.
Perhaps the best way to express my appreciation is by following their example, by living out my convictions, by building into the lives of others, by loving and serving not only my own children but others who have needs. Who knows where such a legacy will lead?