Today is Mothers’ Day. I love being a mother. I am so thankful that God blessed me with four wonderful children. I take them for granted, when truly they are the best gift God has given my husband and me.
My husband and boys do a wonderful job making Mother’s Day special for me. They don’t let me cook. They don’t let me do dishes. They take special annual Mother’s Day pictures out by the peach tree we planted four years ago. I love celebrating Mother’s Day with my men.
And yet, for some reason…all I can do today is cry.
I miss my own mama.
And today would have been her 61st birthday.
Why in the world did her birthday have to fall on Mother’s Day this year? Mother’s Day is hard enough. Her birthday is hard enough. Both on the same day? Ugh.
For a couple of weeks now, so many things I’ve seen and heard are painful reminders that I no longer have my mom around. Our radio keeps asking people to call in and share about why their mom is so special. There are ads all over the place suggesting that we should get our mothers flowers and other wonderful gifts.
You know what I would have given my mom for Mother’s Day/her birthday this year?
A new shirt.
Because that’s what I gave her every year. Because that’s what she always wanted. Because she loved getting new shirts. Because even though it felt boring and unoriginal to give her the exact same thing every year…if I didn’t pick out a new shirt for her…deep down I think she would have been disappointed. Because she loved getting a new shirt. And she loved it when I was the one picking out the new shirt for her. I knew just what she liked.
This time of year, I am drawn to shirts that my mom would have liked. When I am out shopping, I see a cute button up blouse (usually in some shade of blue) and I almost buy it. Every year. Because I always got her a new shirt.
And now, every year, I hurt and feel joy at the same time when I see a shirt that she would have liked for her birthday or for Mother’s Day. And I feel ridiculous standing in the clothing department with tears running down my face because for Pete’s sake, it’s a shirt. Who cries over shirts?
I do. Every May.
Anyway, I love Mother’s Day. It’s a wonderful day to honor precious women in our lives.
But today, I’m hurting. I’m weepy. And I miss my mom.
I figured you wouldn’t mind if I shared that with you.


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