I can't say how excited I am to attend church today. Although I assure you that I never intentionally wallowed in self-pity, Mother's Days prior to this one have carried a pang of longing and inadequacy. It was so irritating to me when all of the mothers are asked to stand at the end of sacrament meeting to receive their little pot of petunias and then, usually as an afterthought all of the Relief Society aged women are asked to stand because we are all mothers--really. Well, there was no fooling me! I just felt silly standing up to receive my petunias. I usually made a break for it with the pretense of needing to prepare something for a lesson. Last year, as I was sneaking out of the chapel to avoid the petunia distribution, a man who must have sensed my motive said to me, "Oh, come-on. Get over it." I thought I was in one of those nightmares when I wanted to kill somebody out of revenge for a fallen family member or something important, but I just couldn't access the ability to do so. Instead, I said "Pardon me?" He must have thought again about his comment, and hoping I hadn't heard it, just smiled sheepishly.
This year, because of a really brave young woman, I get to be the mom to the sweetest girl ever.
This young woman, who knows what it is to fiercely love a child, made the sacrifice of a lifetime to let me know what that kind of love feels like.
This year, I'm legit and we aren't getting petunias, but Ghirardelli chocolates. Whoohoo!