In these last few minutes left of Mother's Day all I can think is "God, I hate this day." I miss my mother even though she's been gone 12 years. I will never get used to it - I've just tried to adjust to it like a person who has lost a limb. I think the resurrection part of this story has yet to play out. My beliefs tell me that I am separated from her temporarily and I will have eternity to yell at her for not letting us know sooner that she had breast cancer while hugging her for handling it with so much courage.I also hate this day because I was not able to have children. I was fearful of adoption because of the unknowns. I have great respect and admiration for the people who were not as fearful as I. There have been signs of life as I have grieved the loss of the unborn over the years. I was a teacher for 23+ years and had the priviledge of mothering many children. It took me awhile to understand that there would be children in my life.... just not the way I thought. Even now at 53 I have a friend who has asked me to babysit her three boys once or twice a week this summer. What a wonderful arrangement - I get to hang out with them and then send them back! It's a gift to be trusted with someone else's children. It gives me hope that I might have been a decent mom if I had been able to have my own.
