Mother's Day

Today was Mother's Day. I always feel a little sad, because I wanted to have children, and it just didn't work out that way. I preached all four services today (well, counting Saturday night), then went to work preparing for a supper time hosting John's parents and my own (and my brother). John's boys were, of course, with their mom, but we'll see them on Father's Day.

Here was my menu for the evening:
1.Simple fruit salad (watermelon, strawberries, blueberries, kiwi on top)
2.Pear and Arugula Salad
3.Bought a Cheese Tortellini Salad and added some Pepperoni
4.Chicken and Wild Rice Salad (the moms like salads)
5.Raspberry Muffins.

The raspberry muffins and the chicken and wild rice salad were the biggest hits. I asked my brother to bring pies (french silk and blueberry) and J made flavored coffee (some chocolate truffle thing). I asked my neice to help chop the pepperonis and add them.

The dog: ran out the front door and down the block when my parents came. And I mean RAN. She's part husky, and she can really get quite a stride going, but she never goes very far (we live on a dead end). John caught her and brought her back, but when she saw my brother she (all sixty pounds of her) jumped straight up in the air. Needless to say, John was very mad at her. I understand how he feels, but I also am more apt to forgive, because I understand that her deficiencies have partly to do with our lack of time and patience in training. She was so good this morning. Came right in when I called her! And she didn't dig holes in the yard!

I felt good because one person asked for a copy of my sermon, probably because I talked about adoption as radical hospitality, "even though you weren't born to me, you are my child."

It occurs to me that mothering is a vocation, and there are two parts to it. First there is the act of giving birth, painful and courageous, and not to be belittled. But then there is the act of nurturing, teaching and loving, whether you are the one who gave birth or not, and whether there is real blood involved or not, this too is painful and courageous: to love and teach and nurture a child, to risk failure and rejection, to carry and to let go.