I had an especially wonderful Mother's Day this year. After all, it is children who make mother's day possible! My mom, who is 83 years old and quite fragile, stayed with me for the weekend. Even though she has lost most of her sight, her memory is fading rather quickly, and she seems a shadow of her former self, I really was able to connect with the heart of this woman I used to call "Sarge."

Mom could give orders like an Army Sergeant. She was quick to judge and even quicker to mead out what she considered a just punishment for infractions, especially those related to impolite behavior. I carried around a fair amount of fury with her for a long time, but in recent years it has softened into a mushy pile of admiration.

Today Mom is just about blind, but her insight is better than 20/20. She's had diabetes for over 25 years now and although she never did understand the 'diet exchanges' she really did observe the sugar restrictions with a self-discipline I have never known. Her arthritis has left her hands stiff, her knees hurting and her balance awkward, but she has never spent a day in the hospital (except for childbirth) nor was I ever aware of her passing through menopause! She has maintained her sense of humor through many, many losses over the years and in spite of a very difficult childhood.

She loves that my hair is more silver than hers and she loves my sister and I more than life itself. I have always been aware of how much I love children, but I never truly realized how much of her life was dedicated to raising, protecting and loving her children and grandchildren. All of this became very clear to me this past Mother's Day.

On her very worst day of not feeling well, she still wants to hear stories about her children and grandchildren. These stories sustain her spirit and her heart. I experience that myself with my children and grandchildren. I see this seed of love blooming in my oldest daughter who is the mother of three daughters; and I see it blooming in my other two daughters, who do not have children but who share understanding, listening time and love with their nieces and the many children whose lives they touch.

This is the legacy my mom has given to each of us. This gift did not come without pain, sacrifice, fear and worry, but that is exactly what makes it a gift. I never really used to think of my mother as particularly strong. I compared her frequently to her mother and my dad's mom, both of whom came to America as courageous immigrants at the age of 15 years, with no skills, a language barrier, and a deep desire for the freedoms America offers.

I can now see my mother's courage and her deep desire for her children and grand-children to have the best life possible, whatever sacrifice that required...and it re-quired a lot on her part! Of the many beautiful expressions of love I received this past mother's day, the most precious was my ability to 'see' my mom with new eyes; to see the heart of her spirit without judgment, without hurt, without resentment, without criticism; and to see that her spirit dwells in my sister and I; in our children and grand-children.

I had a dream just before awakening in the morning of Mother's Day. I dreamt that I was walking along a shallow river, surrounded by an ancient forest with a lot of crone trees bending over the flowing water. Rocks and boulders dotted the river and the adjacent land. In the distance, I could see a child sitting on one of the boulders, very still and very silent. As I approached the child, I realized she was alone and lonely. I also realized she had been waiting for me a very long time. I recognized the child immediately. She was nine years old, in fourth grade and she was wearing her very favorite shoes with the big gold buckle.

This was my child, my "inner" child. As I approached her our eyes met and I could both sense and feel the deep peace that comes with recognition, the warm smile and the warm tears that come with deep love, the oneness that comes with being whole again. I lifted her with gentle gratefulness and deep affection and carried her home to me again. Thanks, Mom!

Copyright © 2002 Elaine K. Williams. All rights reserved worldwide.