“Woman, behold your son . . . Son, behold your mother.”  

-The Gospel of St. John, chapter Nineteen

Mother’s Day.  For some women it is a wonderful time to be showered with gifts, cards, and attention . . . and maybe breakfast in bed or dinner out.  And for some children, regardless of age, it’s a nice time to celebrate the gift of a good mom who, though she has her faults, has, for the most part, done a pretty darn good job of loving her family.  Those are the Hallmark families.

But for many, perhaps even most, it’s not anything like what’s portrayed in movies or described in Greeting Cards.

There are women who never had children.  Or who have lost children in a miscarriage.  Or who have experienced the death of a child in another form, due to disease or unwanted disaster.  Or who made the difficult decision to give up their child due to an unwanted pregnancy.  For the countless numbers of women like this, Mother’s Day is a painful reminder of what was, what could’ve been, or what will never be.

And there are mothers who have experienced loss in different ways.  Even under the best of circumstances being a mother is filled with pain.  It begins with the birth process and continues throughout the life of the child as the mother experiences the gradual loss of her child as they become more independent, leave home, marry, and begin their own life which is for the most part separate from their mom.  It is a process called “ambiguous loss”, where one grieves slowly, through stages of gradually losing a loved one.

And for children also, Mother’s Day is hard.  For many it is a reminder of the death of their mother, painful memories intruding upon the good ones to cause a sense of emotional dissonance.  Safe to say that most children never had a June Cleaver type for a mother, not even a good substitute like Aunt Bea, but more of a Joan Crawford or Miss Havisham.  Some were, or are, raised by the real-life version of the wicked stepmother, so often depicted in children’s fairy tales like Cinderella and Snow White. For the many who were, and are, neglected and abused, Mother’s Day is something that they would rather forget.

So, what does one do with all of this? Perhaps we look elsewhere for a sacred surrogate. That person could be a neighbor, friend, church member, or another woman mentor.  Or maybe that person is Mary, the mother of Jesus.

One of the unfortunate consequences of The Protestant Reformation is that Mary was ushered off the stage, and in some cases out of the theatre all together.  How unfortunate, for in Mary we find a woman who not only sets an example of maternal love, but of faithfulness as well. 

Mary humbly accepted the unwelcomed role she was invited to play in the life story of her Son.  “Let it be done to me according to your will.”  It’s easy to forget that she was only 13 or 14 years old when she said that.  It’s also easy to forget that she performed the daily drudgery associated with raising children (yes, I believe she had more).  Consider for a moment what it was like caring for children in first century Palestine—especially if she was widowed, which is what many believe.

She was also on the receiving end of what must have been hurtful words and actions directed at her by her son.  At the age of 12 the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, and when Mary and Joseph found Him, he replied with what must’ve sounded to them like disrespect, “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s House?”  And there was the first miracle at the wedding at Cana in Galilee, when Jesus summarily dismissed the request His mother was making, “Woman, why are you troubling me with this?  Don’t you know that my hour has not yet come?” And then there was the time when Jesus was told that his mother and brothers were waiting outside for Him, and He responded, “Who is my mother and brothers?  These are my mothers and my sisters and my brothers.”  Yes, Mary experienced what most every mother does from their children.  And that includes watching Him die.

Certainly, there can’t be anything worse in life than losing a child.  The Pieta by Michealangelo captures the compassion and love of Mary for her Son.  Again, it is easy to forget that Mary is a woman with the same emotions and feelings that any other woman has.  Consider for a moment what it was like for her to watch the gruesome events of her Son’s death play out before her very eyes.  And to stand vigil at the foot of the cross, and to see the words that were prophesied at His birth fulfilled, “A sword shall pierce your own soul too.”

I have no mother to celebrate on Mother’s Day.  She died twelve years ago.  I wish I had appreciated her more, spent more time with her.  Though I do my best to avoid them, I have a lot of regrets.  All I can do is take comfort in the fact that she was a good mom, that she loved me, and that I loved her as best I could.  And yes, that I believe she was cradled in the arms of the Angels and God when she died, like Mary is depicted holding Jesus.  And I look to Mary as my surrogate, and I talk to Mary, maybe even pray to her, because like most of us, I still need a mother who I can look up to, and who loves me.