Becca Rowan is a writer and the author of Life in General, a collection of essays about mid-life as experienced by an American woman in the 21st century. Becca loves creating connections by sharing stories on her popular blog.
We had a bitterly cold weekend here in Michigan. Despite the beautiful greenery bursting out on the trees in our community and the deep green carpet of spring grass, there were snowflakes in the air even as the sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky.
Sometimes this week it has felt like the entire world was turned upside down and gone just plain crazy.
Each year on Mother's Day, one of the women in our church sponsors the alter flower displays with this dedication: "To all the mothers who won't hear from their children on this day." I don't know this woman well, so I don't understand the particular story behind her annual message. Is she a mother who is estranged from her child? Did her child go missing and was never recovered? And the fact that she refers to "children" also disturbs me. Does she have more than one child she "won't hear from"? I've asked some of my friends at church who have been members there longer than I, yet no one seems to know the history of this poignant message.As a mother, I think it would be devastating to be ignorant of what's happening in your child's life. My son and I had a ritual that developed as soon as he started school~started having a life away from home, so to speak~a ritual he called "day telling." Sometimes it took place over dinner, but most often at bedtime. And yes, it was largely another delaying tactic in his never ending effort to avoid sleep. But I fell for it every time, because I loved hearing every miniscule detail of his day, of the time he spent apart from me. Naturally, when children grow up and have lives and families of their own, we don't expect the same level of communication. But I'm still just as tickled to hear his voice on the phone as I was to hear him call out that it was "day telling time." Mothers need to "hear from their children," no matter what age or stage of life they're in.
Every Mother's Day, my heart goes out to this woman. When I see her in Coffee Hour, I want to hug her, to say how sorry I am that she doesn't hear from her child, for whatever reason.
I consider my own good fortune on this Mother's Day, my luck in having a son whom I "hear from" on a regular basis, and who still happily shares stories of his day, as well as a mother whom I speak with (if not spend time with!) nearly every day, sharing the good and not so good news of our daily lives.
And for all those mothers whose lines of communication with their children have been severed, may you "hear from them" very soon.
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