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Thirty-nine years ago my mother pushed me into this great world of unknowns.  I was fat with frosted hair, colicky, strong-willed and creatively searching for ways to make my mother's life just a little bit harder.  I was a difficult toddler, but mercifully when school started, things fell into place, and my dear mother could breathe again so she could take care of the rest of my five family members.

Today is the day of my birth and yet, for my mother, it was the day that changed her life forever.  It was the day she would realize what selfless truly means.  She would know what it means to be riddled with pain, with flu, with anguish, but yet, still have to rise up and wear the crown of mother.  She would know the term sleepless, and spend countless hours praying for her children to grow up and know God, be responsible and caring human beings in this broken society. She prayed for them to be loved well by their spouses and be emotionally stable in a very wayward land.  But sometimes all good plans don't succeed.  Sometimes the dreams for your children are broken by depression, destruction, pride, abuse, and death.  She didn't know she would be crying along side every one of her children begging God for mercy and respite in times of great need.  She didn't know she would be the comforter, giving chicken soup for not only the soul, but for actual healing when days were long and hard and sometimes disastrous.  She stood and wrapped her arms around each one as the pain seeped from our veins into hers as she felt what we felt, grieved what some of us had lost.

My Mom and me

 Today I celebrate her,  because I have a small glimpse of what she did for me and am now only beginning to understand what it means to be christened mother.  And when the days come that seem to rip at the seams of my flesh, and when my children have days that are seemingly awful, and when I think that this mother-thing is not for me, because I don't have any answers anymore, and when the sticker chart, positive incentives, dicipline and re-teaching has all failed, I will  (try to) raise my hands to the sky and thank the Lord God Almighty that He has given me this grand opportunity to minister to the needs of these hopeful little beings, to hear them out when nobody else will understand, to speak words of life into their little ears, to spur them on to kindness.  Today I will hope with them when all seems riddled with fear, tainted with bitter words, or when lips are mute, legs are unstable, when hands can't form signs, or when hearts can't bend toward love.  

I don't know if I can do it but today I feel inspired.  It's my day of birth, after all. 

Yesterday, we spent the afternoon in Cape Charles and dined at the Shanty. It was a sweet and welcomed Mother's Day/birthday gift.   VERY Miraculously, all three of my kids sat  angelically in their best post-beach state sipping water and basking in the ocean breeze while listening to cool indie-jazz music. June has been doing this funny thing where she sits behind us and moves our arms to what she wants...kind of like we are her robot...or servant. For a child who hasn't communicated much to us in five years, we have been off-our-rocker intrigued and equally excited!
In this case, she wanted ice:

 Sunshine, communication and giggles.  These are good gifts.

Happy birthday to me!