We celebrate Mother’s Day in the month of May. There are many ways of experiencing maternal love. We share today a reflection of the ideal of mother written by Jean Gillette’s brother, Fr. Kevin Cassidy. He wrote this more than 55 years ago:
“Gadgets and gimmicks can make a model house, but it will always take a mother to make a model home. She is the banker who has never heard of a budget yet mysteriously makes both ends meet like a magician. She is the first aide attendant who can heal all wounds with the twist of a bandage and a kiss. She is the chef at her stove and a spiritual director for the children’s bedside prayers. She is the mother who went without sleep many a night, trying to bring sleep to us. A mother bending over our beds when we were sick, cheering us up when we were sad or worried, picking us up when we fell, and forgiving us when we were naughty. A mother knows that cooking, sewing, and the upkeep of the house is important, but it is the daily involvement with her children that turns the house into a home.
She is the watchful guardian waiting well past midnight for her son or daughter to come home. She is the mother who molds and shapes her children’s, attitudes, ideals, and lives for years to come. When we look at her picture, we see a love like diamonds shining from her eyes. It does not matter to her that when we were young, she broke her back working hard for us, and when we were older, we caused her to worry and broke her heart. She did all of this because she loved us.
Oh yes, a mother is a candlestick with 100 different golden lights and fountain with 100 different spurts of water, and we need all of them. In each pilgrimage to the altar of motherhood she leaves upon it something of her beauty and youth. However, there are compensations. Perhaps she is not now the radiant beauty that once walked down the wedding aisle. But she sees the flowerlike grace living again in her youthful children.
As we grow up our mother grows old. As we grow stronger, she grows weaker. She has brought us to maturity and now her life begins to slow down, like the propeller of a plane that has landed, revolving faintly before it stops. Then when her hair is white and her face is wrinkled and she is a little weary from living, and she gets a bit homesick for heaven, we should stop looking to her for help. It is up to us now to help her, to take her arm as she walks down the descending slope of life toward the sunset. We must never leave her abandoned and alone. So, keep your mother in your thoughts and prayer.”
