Everyday is Mother’s Day and Everyone, each in their own way, mothers

On Mother’s Day Reverend Kent Doss at the Tapestry Unitarian Church began his sermon with a poem.  I found myself tearing up.  After the service I shared my response with other women who all said they, too, had to fight back tears.  

Reverend Doss’ heartfelt delivery can’t be duplicated but I encourage you to read it out loud.   

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If you have carried a child or children, whether or not they came to be born, we see you.

If you have fervently wished to do so, and circumstances of fate made it impossible, we see you.

If you love children we cannot see, whether because of death or estrangement, we see you.

If you never wanted to be a mother, we see you.

If you are happy to mother other people’s children, as an educator, an auntie, or a foster parent, we see you.

If your mother hurt you, physically or emotionally, we see you.

If you had no mother at all, we see you.

If your mother is or was your best friend, we see you.

If your gender says you are not a mother, and yet you take on the role of nurturer, we see you.

If you wonder whether your mothering has been enough, we see you.

And if yours is a different truth altogether, we honor your unspoken story.

There is room for all in this circle. May it be so, today and always.

 About the author: Lisa Bovee-Kemper

 

 

Wordless Fairy Tales . . . Speechless Images

There are few people whose life’s work honors their mothers.

This spectacular photographs by Kirsty Mitchel are all inspired by her mother.  An excerpt from her biography:

“I was born in 1976 and raised in the English county of Kent, known to many as the ‘Garden of England’. My earliest memories were always of the stories read to me by my mother as a child … how it felt to be curled into her side, listening to the rush of her breath as she paused for effect, before launching into yet another characters voice. She was an English teacher, and read to me almost everyday, to an age I could no longer admit to my friends. She instilled in me the most precious gift a mother could, her imagination and a belief in beauty…… it became my root, and the place I constantly try to return to in my work, and my dreams.”

“Tragically my mother was diagnosed with a brain tumour, and my world fell apart. Photography became my only escape when I could no longer talk about how I felt. I lost myself in street portraiture, focusing on those who reflected my own sadness and loss. I later turned the camera inwards, and began photographing myself throughout the hardest year of my life. It became an utter fantasy that blocked out the real world, and a place where I could return to my memories of her, far away from those hospitals walls.”

“She died in November 2008 and that was when photography engulfed me, becoming an overwhelming passion that I could not stop. I found myself producing pieces that echoed the memories of her stories, and the belief in wonder I have always felt since a child.”

http://www.kirstymitchellphotography.com/

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This is her website where you can read about her WONDERLAND project and see all her portfolio:  http://www.kirstymitchellphotography.com/

or check out her flickr gallery:  https://www.flickr.com/photos/kirsty841/with/3500479250/

 

Mother’s Day is Every Day

Striving to love us

The story of mothering

Each in their own way

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My Mother

When I was about 10 I remember thinking:

My mother has a flat rear end.  (Mine wasn’t flat . . . yet.)

When I was about 15 I remember thinking:

My mother is really old.

When I was about 20 I remember thinking:

I don’t REALLY need my Mother anymore.

When I was about 30 I remember thinking:

I wonder what Mom would do?

When I was about 40 I remember thinking:

I’m becoming my Mother.

When I was about 50 I remember thinking:

I never told her I loved her enough.

When I was about 60 I remember thinking:

I miss her.

“For mothers are the first educators, the first mentors; and truly it is the mothers who determine the happiness, the future greatness, the courteous ways and learning and judgement, the understanding and the faith of their little ones.”  Baha’i