Every year, about a week before the blessed event of the second Sunday in May,
I get asked a question by my 2 daughters.
"What do you want for Mother's Day?"
I usually tell them that I don't need a gift, I already have all I need: them.
They then tell me: "Sure, you SAY you don't want a gift, but you really do."
And they could be right.
Past tokens of affection have included breakfast in bed including freshly squeezed orange juice,
a rose bush,
cards made with folded construction paper and markers declaring love and devotion,
cards made with folded construction paper and markers declaring love and devotion,
kisses, hugs, cleaning, lunches at Mimi's Cafe'.
Today, my college girl begged me stop so she could buy me some lilies
from the back of a roadside vendor's pickup truck.
And truthfully, each year, though I expect nothing;
the day usually holds a sweet surprise or two.
But this year, as I ponder the blossoming of my daughters into young adults,
it isn't that I don't appreciate their past offerings,
it isn't that I want to diminish their heart-felt gratitude.
No, I adore each scribble, sticker and bit of yarn bookbinding.
Precious, is each spoken and unspoken expression of their fondness of me.
However, this year, as it becomes more evident that these baby bundles
have become beautiful young ladies, I now solicit more enduring offerings,
and hope to be presented with more valuable and recurrent souvenirs of their respect.
I really do want a gift that is indeed, simply and truly them.
And I petition this gift from them every day. Not just today.
I desire them to give their whole lives, as offerings in submission to the Lord,
I long for my daughters to extend their hands to dispense service to those in lack,
and I expect my young ladies to administer compassion to souls that anguish.
I wish for a lineage that puts others first and offers grace.
This is what I want for Mother's Day.
Listen with respect to the father who raised you,
and when your mother grows old, don't neglect her.
Get truth—don't sell it for love or money;
buy wisdom, buy education, buy insight.
Parents rejoice when their children turn out well;
wise children become proud parents.
So make your father happy!
Make your mother proud!
Proverbs 23: 22-25 (The Message)
Today, my college girl begged me stop so she could buy me some lilies
from the back of a roadside vendor's pickup truck.
And truthfully, each year, though I expect nothing;
the day usually holds a sweet surprise or two.
But this year, as I ponder the blossoming of my daughters into young adults,
it isn't that I don't appreciate their past offerings,
it isn't that I want to diminish their heart-felt gratitude.
No, I adore each scribble, sticker and bit of yarn bookbinding.
Precious, is each spoken and unspoken expression of their fondness of me.
However, this year, as it becomes more evident that these baby bundles
have become beautiful young ladies, I now solicit more enduring offerings,
and hope to be presented with more valuable and recurrent souvenirs of their respect.
I really do want a gift that is indeed, simply and truly them.
And I petition this gift from them every day. Not just today.
I desire them to give their whole lives, as offerings in submission to the Lord,
I long for my daughters to extend their hands to dispense service to those in lack,
and I expect my young ladies to administer compassion to souls that anguish.
I wish for a lineage that puts others first and offers grace.
This is what I want for Mother's Day.
Listen with respect to the father who raised you,
and when your mother grows old, don't neglect her.
Get truth—don't sell it for love or money;
buy wisdom, buy education, buy insight.
Parents rejoice when their children turn out well;
wise children become proud parents.
So make your father happy!
Make your mother proud!
Proverbs 23: 22-25 (The Message)
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