The Lady Speaks

Jenn’s Sunday Sermon – Mother’s Day

Happy Mother's Day to everyone – to birth moms and adoptive moms, to single moms and married moms, to dads flying solo, to foster parents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles who've stepped in to raise a child who needed them, to all of you who are someone special to a child. 

This Mother's Day take the time to remember – and pray for:

Those mothers around the world who've lost a child to war or disease, to gang violence or accident, to starvation or drugs.

The mothers of those currently serving in the US military.

The mothers of  Iraq.

The mothers of Afghanistan.

The mothers of Darfur.

The mothers of Africa. 

Whether a grown man or a toddler, a high school senior or a preteen girl – there are mothers everywhere who would give anything for one last hug, one last kiss, one last whispered "I love you."

Take the time to be grateful if you are not among them. 


This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here." when they keep crying and won't stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football or soccer 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 yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet like a tired 2-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't. For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year, and then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

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, even though they know their own off spring are at home.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they bleed–when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

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 at the same time? 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 dread, from bed to crib 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 fire, a car accident, a child dying?

For all the mothers of the victims of all these school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

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.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. So hang in there.

    — Unknown

To my mother:

Thank you is never enough.

For gritting your teeth and biting your tongue as you let me make my own decisions, even the ones you disagreed with.

For being there to pick me up when it turned out exactly as you expected, without ever saying, "I told you so."

For the advice I didn't take, and the advice I did.

For making me be the mom, during those times when it would have been easier to do it yourself.

For helping me get your grandchildren through the years of colic and teething, bike accidents and broken bones and driving lessons. For teaching me that pennies will pass and so will fluorescent hair dye.

For  making me hold my own hand when I needed to, but always being there with yours, just in case.

For all your support, for all your encouragement, for your inspiration, for all that you have done and continue to do – thank you, Mom!

Love you muchly! 



May 13, 2006 - Posted by | Children, Mother's Day, Women


  1. Happy Mother’s Day! :>) Better late than never, eh?

    Comment by thepoetryman | May 14, 2006 | Reply

  2. Thanks TPM!

    Comment by PA_Lady | May 14, 2006 | Reply

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