Mothers make many sacrifices in raising their children

At the Last Supper, Jesus gave us his body broken for us, and his blood poured out for us. When we join ourselves with Christ’s sacrifice at the Eucharist, we pledge our willingness to be broken and poured out for God’s kingdom.

Parents are called to make this same type of sacrifice for their children. The following is a tribute by an unknown author to all mothers on Mother’s Day.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, “Did you see me?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up discarded wieners and cherry Kool Aid saying, “It’s okay, honey, Mommy’s here.” This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they will never see and the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

For the mothers of high school shooting victims, and the mothers of their murderers. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child, who just came home from school, safely. For all the mothers who run car pools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner and sew a button on a shirt, all simultaneously? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to the crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

This is for all the mothers who sat with their children and explained God’s plan for the continuation of human life. This is for reading “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. Then reading it again, “Just one more time.”

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with splatter in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse. This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot. This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd, though they know their own offspring are at home.

This is for mothers who put flowers and teddy bears on their children’s graves. This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who cannot find the words to reach them. This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomach aches, assuring them they would be just fine once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to pick them up please, right away.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation, and the mature mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers, single mothers and married mothers.

This is for you all. So hang in there and have a Happy Mother’s Day!