I love Anne Lamott. I want her to be my neighbor. She could come over every night and wax on with her wisdom and wit and honesty. Today a friend posted an article Anne wrote about why she hates Mother’s Day. She hates it because she says, “It celebrates the great lie about women: That those with children are more important than those without.” I can resonate with that as one who doesn’t have children and I love much of what she says (mostly because I love the way she writes! Don’t judge!) . . . but I’m not sure I agree with my dear friend Anne completely on this one.
I believe in the celebration of all things: Mothers, Fathers, Anniversaries, Dog-birthdays, human-birthdays, and 5pm when it’s okay to raise a glass wherever you are. And I believe in getting over myself because it is often the best thing for my soul. So . . . as one without children I will practice both on Sunday. I will get over myself and I will seek to avoid all the places my brokenness can spiral and I will celebrate my mom and all the moms I know and the privilege I’ve had to help mom a few little ones along the way (always as the one who can serve dessert before dinner . . . and say “shut up” and “hate” and “fart” when none of those words should be said by the real mom . . . and encourage jumping from heights potentially too high and all the other things pseudo-moms can do). And at 5pm I will raise a glass to my mom and release my soul to love. And I will pause to pray for every friend who is in the throes of infertility that they will feel the freedom to grieve loudly with me (if they so choose).
Here’s to Mother’s Day!