With Mother’s Day around the corner, I’d like to dedicate today’s column to the six mothers I am surrounded by in the photo above; my sisters and my mom. It’s not easy to get all of us in the same room at the same time, nor does it happen often, but it was my mother’s wish to have a professional photograph taken on Christmas Eve when she knew we’d all be together. When the prints were delivered, we were all flattered by the magic of airbrushing that gave us facelifts, removed a few pounds, and restored our youth! But something else magical happened when I examined the group photograph. I thought back to Wadsworth’s poem, Daffodils, excerpted below: I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought What wealth to me the show had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Wadsworth had eventually realized the wealth brought to him by the show of daffodils he gazed at. And gazing at the photograph of my mother and sisters I had an epiphany of my own. I suddenly saw very clearly why people who know my family always tell me “You look just like your sister!” In the photo I could clearly see pieces of their faces in mine, and mine in theirs. But we are similar beyond the skin and bones. We have shared priorities and worldviews passed on to us from our parents. We consider motherhood one of life’s highest callings, and we’ve each answered that call with passion and enthusiasm. With a father who served in WWII, we place a high value on the blessings of liberty, in our country, family, faith, and volunteer service, and we are passing these values down to our children, along with a sense of humor we got from our mother. When we fall down, we laugh, and we get up. We don’t sweat the small stuff and we know life is a gift.
Sisters are a gift too and I thank my mother for giving us to each other. We share a rich history of laughter, tears, our childhood home, family cars, heirlooms, births, weddings, funerals, good times, bad and very hard times too. When I think back to holidays, life events, interesting conversations over the years, or peruse photo albums, my sisters are there every step of the way as we have grown up, aged, and become mothers. Like Wadsworth and his flowers, I realized my sisters often flash upon my own inward eye at unexpected times. I gained a renewed appreciation for how they fill my heart with pleasure in ways I may have thought little of before.
I suddenly feel very lucky to have so many sisters when some women have none. With a grateful spirit, I honor my sisters this Mothers Day and our mother too, who after all these years is still trying to be the best mother she can be, continually showing us love; and how to love. Happy Mother’s Day!
