Mother's Day
May. 11th, 2008 10:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
certainthingsHappy Mother's Day.
And because I like to post tl;dr quotes ...
Robert Fulghum:
For twenty-five years of my life, the second Sunday in May was trouble. Being the minister of a church, I was obliged in some way to address the subject of Mother's Day. It could not be avoided. I tried that. Mind you, the congregation was quite open-minded, actually, and gave me free reign in the pulpit. But when it came to the second Sunday in May, the expectations were summarized in these words of one of the more outspoken women in the church: "I'm bringing my MOTHER to church on MOTHER'S DAY, Reverend, and you can talk about anything you want. But it had better include MOTHER, and it had better be GOOD!"
She was joking - teasing me. She also meant it.
Year after year I tried to get it right. Somehow, having had a mother and having known quite a few firsthand didn't seem to count for much. I had never been a mother, so what did I know? I did give it my best - I swear. Tried to deliver on-the-one-hand-and-then-on-the-other-hand sorts of balanced, evasive sermons. Quoted a lot of big-name authorities, read sensitive poetry, avoided chancy jokes and gratuitous advice. But the Sunday never passed without half the congregation thinking I was a hypocrite for not laying it on the line about mothers, and the other half thinking I was an ingrate for not laying on with a trowel as to how wonderful mothers really, eternally, are. What's a Minister to do?
* * * *
One memorable Sunday I said that for all those who had wonderful mothers or who were wonderful mothers or who thought motherhood in general was just wonderful, I would just like to say "WONDERFUL."
But if this isn't you ...
Then I gave a kind of moot quiz - asked some questions without asking for a show of hands.
I had other questions to ask, but the church had become very quiet as I read my questions. The congregation sat very still, and it was clear that a lot more truth than they or I wanted to deal with was among us. I stopped. Looked at them and they looked at me. The look was pain. I sat down, not in the pulpit chair but down in a pew where they were. Enough had been asked to last a long time. There wasn't much joy that Sunday in May. The cold spring rain falling outside the windows of the church didn't help much, either. Bringing up the whole truth seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now ...
A visiting lady, who had "sainted mother" written all over her face, accosted me after church: "Young man, better men than you have goen straight to hell for suggesting less than what you said this morning. Shame, shame, SHAME for spoiling this day."
So. As I say, I'm a little gun-shy talking about Motherhood. Especially to women. As my own mother often explained when things did not go well: I was only trying to help.
My Sunday obligations are over now, and my mother is in her grave. I am on safer ground in passing some advice on to my son the mother. Advice for his older brother as well, who is engaged and has that fecund look about him that tells me motherhood is not that far away from him, either.
For both my sons, then, some motherly thoughts from their father:
Finally a footnote. You will never really know what kind of parent you were or if you did it right or wrong. Never. And you will worry about this and them as long as you live. But when your children have children and you watch them do what they do, you will have part of an answer.
And because I like to post tl;dr quotes ...
Robert Fulghum:
For twenty-five years of my life, the second Sunday in May was trouble. Being the minister of a church, I was obliged in some way to address the subject of Mother's Day. It could not be avoided. I tried that. Mind you, the congregation was quite open-minded, actually, and gave me free reign in the pulpit. But when it came to the second Sunday in May, the expectations were summarized in these words of one of the more outspoken women in the church: "I'm bringing my MOTHER to church on MOTHER'S DAY, Reverend, and you can talk about anything you want. But it had better include MOTHER, and it had better be GOOD!"
She was joking - teasing me. She also meant it.
Year after year I tried to get it right. Somehow, having had a mother and having known quite a few firsthand didn't seem to count for much. I had never been a mother, so what did I know? I did give it my best - I swear. Tried to deliver on-the-one-hand-and-then-on-the-other-hand sorts of balanced, evasive sermons. Quoted a lot of big-name authorities, read sensitive poetry, avoided chancy jokes and gratuitous advice. But the Sunday never passed without half the congregation thinking I was a hypocrite for not laying it on the line about mothers, and the other half thinking I was an ingrate for not laying on with a trowel as to how wonderful mothers really, eternally, are. What's a Minister to do?
* * * *
One memorable Sunday I said that for all those who had wonderful mothers or who were wonderful mothers or who thought motherhood in general was just wonderful, I would just like to say "WONDERFUL."
But if this isn't you ...
Then I gave a kind of moot quiz - asked some questions without asking for a show of hands.
1. How many of you find yourself involved in hypocrisy on the most uncomfortable kind around Mother's Day?
2. How many really don't like - or even really hate - your mother, or hate being the mother you are?
3. How many really don't like or even really hate your children?
4. How many of you don't really know your mother at all?
5. How many of you find Mother's Day painful, especially when it involves thoughts and memories of such matters as adoption, abortion, divorce, suicide, rejection, alcoholism, alienation, abuse, incest, sorrow, loss, and words like stepmother, mother-in-law, and unspeakable obscene references to motherhood?
I had other questions to ask, but the church had become very quiet as I read my questions. The congregation sat very still, and it was clear that a lot more truth than they or I wanted to deal with was among us. I stopped. Looked at them and they looked at me. The look was pain. I sat down, not in the pulpit chair but down in a pew where they were. Enough had been asked to last a long time. There wasn't much joy that Sunday in May. The cold spring rain falling outside the windows of the church didn't help much, either. Bringing up the whole truth seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now ...
A visiting lady, who had "sainted mother" written all over her face, accosted me after church: "Young man, better men than you have goen straight to hell for suggesting less than what you said this morning. Shame, shame, SHAME for spoiling this day."
So. As I say, I'm a little gun-shy talking about Motherhood. Especially to women. As my own mother often explained when things did not go well: I was only trying to help.
My Sunday obligations are over now, and my mother is in her grave. I am on safer ground in passing some advice on to my son the mother. Advice for his older brother as well, who is engaged and has that fecund look about him that tells me motherhood is not that far away from him, either.
For both my sons, then, some motherly thoughts from their father:
1. Children are not pets.
2. The life they actually live and the life you perceive for them to be living is not the same life.
3. Don't take what your children do too personally.
4. Don't keep scorecards on them - a short memory is useful.
5. Dirt and mess are a breeding ground for well-being
6. Stay out of their rooms after puberty.
7. Stay out of their friendships and love-life unless invited in.
8. Don't worry that they never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.
9. Learn for them; they have much to teach you.
10. Love them long; let them go early.
Finally a footnote. You will never really know what kind of parent you were or if you did it right or wrong. Never. And you will worry about this and them as long as you live. But when your children have children and you watch them do what they do, you will have part of an answer.
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Date: 2008-05-12 04:44 am (UTC)