In Job 11, spoken at many funerals, it is said that man (that is, we in general), is born of a woman. That is the undisputed part of it all: we all start with a mother. A man comes into the picture and kickstarts the process of creating what, in nine months, becomes a new life, but women fertilize, carry, deliver and leave that indelible mark of her being in her progeny.
Every May we stop to think about the woman who brought us into this world, sometimes lovingly, sometimes fleetingly. Job also goes on to say we live a short miserable life. Sure, life is hard, and we all grow up to take our bitter daily pills as, with any luck, we leave the familial nest and set off to make something out of living for ourselves. Our mothers bear us, both in the delivery room and in raising us, or not (some depart the task on purpose or by accident or somebody else’s design, and there are a million other reasons inbetween), but they are a part of us and who we are and become, and how we die.
For those of us who love and have loved and continue to love our mothers, in life or after their passing, let’s take a moment to thank them. They have earned our love and respect.
For those who have issues with their mothers for any reason, just remember that just as you make the choice to have the issue, you also can make the choice to change yourself. Mothers and fathers are yesterday’s children, years older but still scarred with the mistakes of their own youth, the evils thrust upon them in their upbringing (whether neglect or too much privilege: think about criminals who claim an abusive past or ridiculously stuck-up rich snobs who don’t know the value of ten cents, and you’ll get the picture) and the methods by which they molded or failed to mold their own lives, bringing their own children into the world to inflict the next generation with the same flaws, or not.
We all go through that cathartic moment when we realize that adults are flawed. When we come to holidays like Mother’s Day, all those past foibles come to mind and threaten to hurt us. The best of us remember that we have every second of our lives to live past our and our parents’ faults, as well as to amplify and improve the best qualities brought to us because we have grown up. So remember your mother, whether you really know her or not, and bless her, for every moment of your life, part of you is her, for better or for worse. Don’t be that miserable that Job 11 sounds like your biography.
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