Many years ago, I was gifted a book of poetry. In it was a poem that has stuck with me ever since. It was authored by Carol Lynn Pearson, an LDS author and playwright. I think it touched me because somehow the idea of the mother always sacrificing for the kids - and I mean ALWAYS being the ONLY one sacrificing - always taking the burnt piece of toast, made me feel like that mother was teaching her daughters and sons that mothers are only good for giving their all to their kids, without them ever having the duty and responsibility to learn how to sacrifice and give back - and most especially how to be grateful for what they receive.
I do believe that mothers should sacrifice. It is part of what motherhood is all about. And most of the time those sacrifices are, in reality, "blessings in disguise", for we mothers end up being the ones that grow immeasurably from it and are blessed tremendously for it. We should sacrifice for our husbands, for our children, for our God, for our nation, for our friends, and even for our own selves at times. However, to me there is something inherently wrong with ALWAYS sacrificing for the kids WITH the attitude that "we don't deserve", or that "I should never have something for myself" ... teaching the kids, through that behavior and attitude, that they should never sacrifice for the mother (and by extension for others), and by extension teaching them to not feel gratitude.
I feel that in a family everyone should sacrifice together, without "keeping score." Everyone should take turns sacrificing for the others almost without thought, but from sheer love, and 'who' sacrifices 'when' is determined by the circumstances of the moment as well as the circumstances of eternity. In other words, keeping a
balance in all things. In addition, many times, the sacrifice is not in "giving up" something, but in "sharing", wherein you don't get "as much" as you selfishly wanted, but you DO get "some" plus the joy of knowing that your loved ones got some too - and being grateful you have someone to sacrifice for and someone to share with. Sacrifice and sharing with gratitude- a delicate, healthy balance.
So... in honor of Mother's Day, which for me is always on May 10th, and for the rest of the U.S. is on May 11th this year, I share this poem. One of my favorites.
Happy Mother's Day Mama and all my dear and sweet female friends and relatives! We are all mothers by our sheer natures - regardless of bearing children ourselves. We are the mothers that "mother" the world!
MILLIE’S MOTHER’S RED DRESS
It hung there in the closet
While she was dying, Mother’s red dress,
Like a gash in the row
Of dark, old clothes
She had worn away her life in.
They had called me home
And I knew when I saw her
She wasn’t going to last.
When I saw the dress, I said
“Why, Mother – - how beautiful!
I’ve never seen it on you.”
“I’ve never worn it,” she slowly said.
“Sit down, Millie – - I’d like to undo
A lesson or two before I go, if I can.”
I sat by her bed
And she sighed a bigger breath
Then I thought she could hold.
“Now that I’ll soon be gone,
I see some things.
Oh, I taught you good – - but I taught you wrong.”
“What do you mean Mother?”
“Well – - I always thought
That a good woman never takes her turn,
That she’s just for doing for somebody else.
Do here, do there, always keep
Everybody else’s wants tended and make sure
Yours are at the bottom of the heap.”
“Maybe someday you’ll get to them.
But of course you never do.
My life was like that – - doing for your dad,
Doing for the boys, for your sisters, for you.”
“You did – - everything a mother could.”
“Oh, Millie, Millie, it was not good – -
For you – - for him. Don’t you see?
I did you the worst of wrongs.
I asked for nothing – - for me!”
“Your father in the other room,
All stirred up and staring at the walls – -
When the doctor told him, he took
It bad – - came to my bed and all but shook
The life right out of me. ‘You can’t die,
Do you hear? What’ll become of me?’
‘ What’ll become of me?’
It’ll be hard, all right when I go.
He can’t even find the frying pan, you know.”
“And you children – -
I was a free ride for everybody, everywhere.
I was the first one up and the last one down
Seven days out of the week.
I always took the toast that got burned,
And the very smallest piece of pie.”
“I look at how some of your brothers
Treat their wives now
And it makes me sick, ’cause it was me
That taught it to them. And they learned,
They learned that a woman doesn’t
Even exist except to give.
Why, every single penny that I could save
Went for your clothes, or your books,
Even when it wasn’t necessary.
Can’t even remember once when I took
Myself downtown to buy something beautiful – -
For me.”
“Except last year when I got that red dress.
I found I had twenty dollars
That wasn’t especially spoke for.
I was on my way to pay extra on the washer.
But somehow – - I came home with this big box.
Your father really gave it to me then.
‘Where you going to wear a thing like that to – -
Some opera or something?’
And he was right, I guess.
I’ve never, except in the store,
Put on that dress.”
“Oh Millie – - I always thought if you take
Nothing for yourself in this world
You’d have it all in the next – - somehow
I don’t believe that anymore.
I think the Lord wants us to have something – -
Here – - and now.”
“And I’m telling you , Millie, if some miracle
Could get me off this bed, you could look
For a different mother, ’cause I would be one.
Oh, I passed up my turn so long
I would hardly know how to take it.
But I’d learn, Millie.
I would learn!”
It hung there in the closet
While she was dying, Mother’s red dress,
Like a gash in the row
Of dark, old clothes
She had worn away her life in.
Her last words to me were these:
“Do me the honor, Millie,
Of not following in my footsteps.
Promise me that.”
