The Measure of a Mom

It is Mother's Day, and millions upon millions wake to think and do for their moms, sharing their accolades and forms of adoration. The treatise and pouring out of blessings to the woman who endured the suffering and joys of birthing us, the selfless sacrifice of time and energy that forged meaning and virtues of life itself in to us, beyond the forms of carrying of us toward and through maturity is the fullness of the day. With confidence we gather and pour out praises and celebrations and surely they are well deserved, and well placed.

Just as in all 'callings' and investments in lives here on earth, there are virtues attached to such 'callings'. Some are called to be teachers, some preachers, some caregivers, some leaders, some insurance salespeople, some bankers, some writers, some, if not most, of the female gender, to be moms. Moms are called to 'be it all'. We bestow financial blessings, paying millions to those whose leadership and insight make business and entertainment 'successful', relegating the ones primary for their achievement as ghost writer behind all they are. But even as I write, it strikes me that the measure of a mom is her ability to continue as she has always been, the quiet, self-sacrificing, humble woman who cherishes and finds joy alone in the fact that her child contributes valiantly and vibrantly to the continuation of the future and humanity.

As I reflect today, but mostly on other days, of all my mom has done and shown me about life and love, I celebrate with joyous thanksgiving. Her quiet, constant, and diligent acts of service and caring, satisfied only with my successful survival and generous heart of me, her son, forged through hers, is the only thanks she truly desires. In her honor, and with her character, I choose to live as such. While my mom is thankfully still with us, and as I cherish every moment of her presence in and around my life, I daily remember and give thanks to God for His wise provision and placement of my life, and it's initial toils, as the son of Maxine.

My mom doesn't live for the honor of today. Few if any moms do. Which raises the point of this blog. The measure of a mom isn't found in her accolades, but in her children. Both my brother and I strive to live lives led in ethics, truth, honesty and sincerity. It is motivated primarily by our pursuit of holiness, but endorsed and invested in our lives through our 'raising'. When my mom stands by me, to this day, I can not just feel her warmth, her love, but decades upon decades of her selfless investment in my heart. When people ask who my heroes are, mom and dad are first on the list, followed by others like them. I measure my heroes by the woman who gave and gives today, her heart and soul bulging as she speaks proudly of her sons.

For me, the measure of a mom is found as others are compared to mine, and for all, I believe that we can and should track with my celebrations, for the measure of a mom isn't found in the one who only carries and brings us into the world, but who carries and invests in us and with us as we continue to mature. I am fortunate to have both. I do not take this for granted. I will not forget. I will remain thankful, with frequent occurrence, the blessings poured out for me, through my mom, pressed into her, by her mom, and the plethora of generations that preceded her. My gratitude is great. My heart and musings forged by hers, for she is my measure of a mom.