Mother's Day

It's almost Mother's Day. Funny, that didn't used to mean much to me at all -- just a spring day with the family. Now all my thoughts seem to flow into broader concepts -- s'pose that has to do with age and time; most things do. This year I'm rather in a mood to think of Mary, the mother of my best friend, Jesus. Now she was one lady who had it hard. What a path to tread, how to raise a God, how to watch your son die before you -- and of His own choosing, His own acceptance of the unwanted cup. People say, who in history would you like to meet. I would like to meet Mary. I'd ask her how to tame the anger and the bear the pain -- to find peace when such a wrong was done. How could she have loved mankind after that? But you know she did. What was the real importance of that wedding to her when she asked her son to see to the wine? And for her, for the love of His mother, He complied although it was time out of sync. Or was that all symbolic for He is really the wine anyway and she had to know that. I would like to see her face to face and have a heart to heart. Each time I have had a child inside the birth pains I have held onto Binah, Mary -- the protecting arms that mother me and all other women who take the pain and mantle, choosing to serve as mothers. Mother's Day, yes, I will see the family and I will be tenderly and joyously happy for and inside the warmth of my own nest and nestlings, but my larger self, my ME ME will be sitting at Mary's feet and hoping to catch a drop of wisdom from a tear of joy or laughter that falls from her on her day: Mother's Day.