I wasn’t too enthusiastic about Mother’s Day last year.
My idea of the perfect day was to spend the afternoon at home in the air conditioning with my feet propped up while my kids and husband pampered me.
Instead, we had to rush out of church and drive an hour each way for a picnic with other family members.
When my 5 year old came in to wake me up on Mother’s Day morning, I didn’t even open my eyes before I said, “It’s too early, go back to bed.”
Undeterred, he said, “Happy Mother’s Day, mommy! I have some presents for you!”
Of course I had to open my eyes then and take a look at his sweet offerings. He was clutching several pictures he had made, including one embellished with cutouts and sealed in an envelope. Some of the pictures were folded neatly and placed inside an empty chocolate box, which he told me I could keep.
After I admired his drawings and thanked him for his thoughtfulness, he asked if he could lie down on the floor in my room until it was time to get up. He made a little bed for himself while I closed my eyes and tried to get a few more minutes of coveted sleep.
But I couldn’t settle back down. I could feel him watching me.
Every time I opened my eyes I found him staring at me, with an adoring smile on his face. I wanted to sleep, but all he wanted to do was bask in the presence of Mommy.
I was cut to the heart. My vision of Mother’s Day had been selfish. I wanted a day when my family would show how grateful they were for me while I took a break from my motherly duties.
But in those sweet moments in the wee morning hours, the Lord reminded me how blessed I am to be a mom. Mother’s Day isn’t about celebrating me. It’s about celebrating how gracious God has been to me.
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