On Saturday, my friend Gigi hosted a Mother’s Day luncheon for her church.  She invited several of us to speak on different aspects of motherhood. I spoke on infertility and late-in-life motherhood. Others spoke on looking forward to motherhood, adoptive motherhood, step-motherhood, grand-motherhood, military motherhood and another gal spoke on what it’s like being a mother to a special needs child.

One lady lost her son in a tragically freak car accident when he was 32 and spoke about what a joy he was to her for the time she had him.  Each story was inspiring and sharpened my perspective and deepened my appreciation for how similar and yet how different everyone’s experience at this mothering gig can be.

The picture has nothing really to do with Mother’s Day other than to record that Sean spent the entire weekend running around Gigi’s farm playing with her grandchildren, covered in dirt and totally unaware that he had a mother.

As we drove home, Sean handed me a Wal-Mart bag from the back seat and wished me a happy Mother’s Day.  Inside was a card and a candle.  I suspect at some point I will own the largest collection of Wal-Mart candles in the state of Texas. I just pray that my collection will grow beyond 32.

In Texas, Thanksgiving weather is anyone’s guess.  There have been some years that we had ice and sleet and other years that were warm enough to go swimming.  This year it was about 70 and sunny and intensely beautiful.

Here’s what I will remember of Thanksgiving 2009:

- Hanging out at Cousin Jimmy’s place in the country, where we

trekked through a winding creekbed and then a pasture of needle grass with Sean playing the part of Bear Grylls and me playing the part of the woman who carries all the cool rocks and leaves that he found along the way.  I wonder if Bear’s mom had to carry all the rocks.  We also found some dinosaur bones which look remarkably like cow bones.  I refused to carry the cow dinosaur bones.  That’s where I draw the line.

- Watching Sean toss bread to 30-pound catfish. The fish would silently rise from the murky depths like a shark, devour an entire piece of bread in one bite and then disappear into the dark.  I did not squeal even one time.  I have pictures of the Amazon catfish but they are terribly unattractive creatures.

- And my favorite memory of all, watching Sean sit in the same chair with Aunt Jean showing her how to play a game on my iTouch.

* * *

Things I Won’t Remember about Thanksgiving 2009:

- Who won the football game.

- The parade floats.

- That I made the dessert and left it at home.

So then, how was your Thanksgiving?  Tell me one thing you will remember and one thing you won’t.

So then, yesterday was Mother’s Day. Or Sunday. Whatever. To me, Mother’s Day ranks right up there with Boxing Day. I can take it or leave it.  I know. In your head right now, you are saying, “What kind of mother doesn’t like Mother’s Day!” Did you think I couldn’t hear that?

Regardless of whatever personal issues I have with the highest of the Hallmark holy days, I am still obligated to participate.  I crumble easily under the weight of societal expectations to buy flowers and cards and to festively order others to “Have a happy (insert occasion) day!” I just go along. I grumble, but I go along.

Texas has been gray and wet for what seems like two years now, but according to the newspapers it has actually only been two weeks.  And yesterday, Mother’s Day, was no different.  So we drove up to Tuna under a gray cloud of drizzly rain to have lunch with Memaw to celebrate Mother’s Day.

When we arrived, we exclaimed “Happy Mother’s Day” in a festive tone and then we sat down to eat too much.  Papa George had fixed us a yummy meal and it was swell all the way around even though I had to do the dishes.

When we got home late in the afternoon, we noticed an odd bright orb in the sky, so we Googled “bright orb in the sky” and we were delightfully surprised to find out that it was the sun. A few little sunbeams and my girlish giddy and glee returned to wash away all my sour feelings surrounding having a national day set aside to honor the fact that I managed to procreate.

A few sunbeams were all it took for Sean too.  He raced into the house and put on his swimming suit.  And when a 38-pound boy wearing a swimming suit, snorkel and mask is standing in your den, the cuteness will short circuit your brain and you will be rendered powerless to do anything other than say “Okay!”  And that’s how we ended up at the swimming pool late in the afternoon on Mother’s Day.

In my opinion, the water in the swimming pool was fuh-reee-zzzzing!  But according to Sean, the water was “refreshant!” Although my research is not scientific, I believe that human children learn to discern uncomfortably cold swimming pool water around the same time they develop sense enough to come in out of the rain. Unlike chickens however, human children will not drown if they look up when it’s raining. This fact, I have proven scientifically. I’m not sure how that relates to anything heretofore.

So, I sat a safe distance from the edge of the pool and its uncomfortably cold water to watch my scrawny little boyfriend jump in and out of the pool about 658 times;  each time crafting a unique approach and/or creative pose for the amusement of his mother.

“Mom!” he shouted as zipped past in a blur, “Memaw’s AND swimming, all in the SAME day! This is the best day EVER!” And then he disappeared into a big splash of chilly water.  My heart was drenched in joy.

So yeah, Mother’s Day was the best day ever.  And so was every day of the last five and a half years.

* * * *

Jennifer put up chapter two of our on-line study if you are following along. It’s really good.

We are not big on the commercial trappings of Easter. No one gets new Easter clothes and Sean doesn’t get a big Easter basket filled with candy and toys and a giant chocolate Easter bunny, but we do partake of the egg hunting tradition early and often, and with much enthusiasm.

Last week I managed to find the plastic eggs from Easter past.  I filled them with coins and then hid them all around the yard for Sean to find. With basket in hand, Sean hunted them down, cracked them open and like a little Warren Buffet, he calculated his earnings and considered his investment options. And then we did that again 2 or 27 times. At the end of the day, I refilled all 43 eggs with coins so we could do it all again another day.

Later that week, Sean had a little friend over. He asked if they could hide the Easter eggs and I wasn’t really listening, so I said “Sure!”

They took the eggs outside and hid them in the backyard and then because they are brilliant children, they found them. And then they cracked them open. In the sandbox.

If you are a pirate, we have about $15 in change buried in our sandbox. Come and get it.

Seek boldly.

Journey courageously.

Work diligently.

Sacrifice valiantly.

Suffer willingly.

Persist relentlessly.

Share extravagantly.

Serve compassionately.

Love fearlessly.

Live intentionally.

Give thanks unceasingly.

We are all but pilgrims and strangers upon the earth.

Peace and grace to you wherever life takes you.

Happy Thanksgiving.