Saturday, May 8

Seven Red Roses

My maternal grandmother, Granny Goo, taught me for years that Mother’s Day is not a time to be celebrated yourself. It is a time to celebrate your own mom, to honor her. Those with a living mother were to wear a red rose to church, and those whose mothers have passed on wear white roses. For some reason, this is the year that it clicks. This is the year that I finally believe that to honor my mother(s) is the essence of the holiday.


Everyone on this planet has had a mom at one point or another; whether they are living or dead, for better or worse, they are our mothers. They gave us life. I was blessed in my mom. She was the one who first taught me about wonder. Because of her, I hold wonderment and teachability as a central value in my life. To hold your mind and heart open to all the good in the world, to love, to God… That is the most important thing that there is. The ability to wonder is at the root of much of who I am; teacher, reader, learner, jokester. My mom gave me the roots of who I am.

My paternal grandmother gave me lots of socks… and my dad. He gave me the stem of who I am, but that is another story. :-)

Granny Goo gave me the gift of her stories and her wisdom. As I get older, I lean more into her words every day.


Those are my biological mothers. I was blessed to have four mothers of my soul, as well:

Mary. She gave me a restful place to laugh and love. She gave me her family as my own.

Sue. She gave me an ear (well… lots and lots of ears), and hugs, and cookies.

Kathy. She gave me guidance, and study, and discipline, and Scripture. She was another who brought wisdom… God knows I needed it! (She also gave the best backrubs!!)

Sprinkle. She gave me vision when I had none. She gave me breath when I could not breathe. She loved me steadfastly through the darkest time.


Fortunately for me, they are all still alive. They are in my life, some more centrally, and others on the fringes. They are my seven red roses.

Because of these mothers, I am today. Without these mothers, I would not be. In them, I was formed. In them, I became. My words cannot ever express my gratitude for their love and sacrifice for me. May you be as much blessed, worthy women!!

Love to you.

1 comment:

  1. editorial note: Granny Goo said that they can be ANY red or white flowers, they do not have to just be roses. Also, according to the old tradition, everybody wears a flower... men, women, and children. :-)

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