Mothering Sunday

In England and other countries tied to the ancient Christian calendar, the fourth Sunday in Lent is traditionally called Mothering Sunday. It is not the same as Mother's Day as held in the USA in May, created perhaps by the Hallmark company.

As in many countries throughout the world, in Olde Englande, children were often presented to wealthy households as domestic slaves when their poor parents were unable to provide for them. I use the term slave because I don't believe the children went willingly into servitude, nor were they compensated apart from basic room and board. They were, however, allowed to return to visit their mothers, once a year, as an act of Christian charity and during the spring season, often picked wildflowers to present their mothers. So the custom has expanded and evolved in different ways over the course of centuries to the point that it's becoming commercialized and a day of suffering for some instead of an honoring of one's mother.

The suffering has come up for me when I think of the misdeeds I held against my poor old Mum, whom I loved dearly, and resented bitterly at times. I was inclined to complacency around my attitude, since so many others also had difficulties in dealing with her. She no doubt suffered from a form of personality disorder that today would be alleviated with therapy and antidepressants perhaps. However, once I became a mother myself, the entire picture of my own mother changed. Nothing like labor pains to break one down to levels of understanding with other mothers, related or not. Nothing like a fight with a belligerent teenager or a squawking wriggling toddler in the grocery store to impel one to the phone and unleash a torrent of apology to Mommy Dearest.

Mothering Sunday was a struggle at times, as I didn't feel like buying flowers for the old biddy, as I then thought of her. This year as in the past 4, I miss her smoky voice and rolling Glaswegian burr and wish I could have a cup of tea and give her some freesias and candy. She deserved those, at least. Thank you my darling Mother. May you be resting in peace, God knows you earned it.