Ain't go'n be good if you drop the Mother's Day Ball

Mother's Day is Sunday, so I am likely among the first to wish moms a happy day. This is a holiday that gets quite a bit of attention -- more than Father's Day for sure. In fact, Sunday in church, our pastors reminded the husbands and children to do what they have to do this week in preparation to treat their mothers and wives well. "You've got a week" was the message. In other words, "It ain't go'n be good if you drop the ball on this one!"

Indeed, it is fitting that mothers are treated like the queens they are. Certainly, they should be celebrated every day, but there is something about an annual observance that highlights the significance of mothers. Women, in general, whether or not they have borne their own children, are worthy of recognition. Yes, even those who have not given birth have often nurtured others' children. They baby-sit, teach Sunday school, welcome neighborhood newcomers. Wives have supported their husbands in their endeavors, encouraged youngsters in theirs -- often sacrificially.

A mother is usually not looking for a pat on the back. She just does what does. Well, let me revise that. She isn't looking for a pat on the back on most days, but Mother's Day is different. Mother's Day is the day she is expecting that pat and more. It's the least those in her life can do. The flowers, chocolates, dinners and gifts are not repayments for what she does. There is nothing valuable enough to compensate her, but the acts of kindness show appreciation.

I don't think a Mother's Day goes by when I don't think back to the poem I recited in church when I was about 10 years old. I believe it may have been the first time I was asked -- required, actually, because Aunt Mary would never allow me to say, "No" -- to get up in front of the whole church to speak. I remember because it was an embarrassing moment. I had memorized the poem, practiced it, and was ready to deliver it. Aunt Mary would have had it no other way. She made me recite it countless times before that day. On that Sunday, however, I experienced a brain cramp. I started out fine, declaring the title: "Mother Taught Me." Then, my mind went totally blank. I mean, not a thought was there. I stood looking at the people who were looking at me, nothing coming out of my mouth because nothing was in my head. I found the strength to start again, hoping when I got the title out, something more would miraculously be there.

I began again: "Mother Taught Me." Out poured the rest of the poem that, all these years later, I still remember. Funny how that works.

I recited:

"Her hands were my first touch of love.

Her smile, my first delight.

My music was the lullaby she sang to me at night.

I first saw faith by watching how she lived from day to day.

I first met God at Mother's side each time I heard her pray."

It's interesting that as a preteen, that poem seemed lengthy. Now, as an adult, I think, "Wow, that was nothing!"

It's a wonder I ever spoke in front of people again after I had such a bad start to such a beautiful poem. But really, my public speaking days began right at that church. I haven't stopped speaking since, and it started with a poem about mothers.

I don't know who wrote the poem. I guess that was before people were adamant about making sure we gave credit to authors. For all I know, it could have been written by my Sunday school teacher. Whoever wrote those few words, however, surely captured the spirit of mothers.

The old saying goes, "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world." Thank God for women who pour into the children entrusted into their care, who speak life and teach faith and make children feel safe. We honor them.

To those reading this column today, I echo what my pastors said in church Sunday: You've got a few days to pick out a fitting gift for your mother, wife, grandmother, auntie and more. Don't worry about making it the perfect gift. There's not a gift devised by man that can measure up to her worth, but your thoughtful token will let her know you appreciate her -- and that's really enough for her. So don't drop the ball -- because there's another saying you'd be wise to remember: "If Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!"

Adrienne Ross is an editor, writer, public speaker, former teacher and coach, Southeast Missourian editorial board member and owner of Adrienne Ross Communications.