MOM ON THE RUN: Moms take care of everyone else

How, exactly, do you pay tribute to a mom? I mean a real tribute, something meaningful done so that the mom will accept it, and not think you went overboard. Because the very nature and definition of “Mom” is, “it’s not about me,” and we pooh-pooh any attention, we brush it off and get back to our family. That’s what moms do, all the time, from even before the first child is born: we take care of everyone else. Always.

In my own household, I am last. Absolutely, thoroughly, totally last. Behind the kids and the husband and the dogs. Behind Sunday School and the mission trip, behind school committees and new shoes, even behind homework and car maintenance. My feelings, my needs? Ha. Last. Because I’m at the forefront, busy making everything happen. I manage it all, scheduling events, buying poster board and cake mixes, sending in checks and making dentist appointments. I feed people and wash clothes and clean bathrooms (sometimes); I’m the one who gets “it,” everything, done.

And I took this position voluntarily. I had no idea what I was in for when I first said, “Let’s have a baby,” I did not have the imagination necessary to grasp the massive, multi-faceted undertaking involved in rearing a human being from newborn to self-supporting adult. But every step of the way, when something needed to be handled, figured, fixed, I raised my hand, I volunteered, I stepped up and did it, never perfectly, but the best way I could at the moment. And I wanted to.

So when the priest at the funeral today said, “What Donna would like now are your prayers,” I thought, no, that’s not right. Donna, tragically, sadly, much too early, is not here with us anymore, but what she wants right now, I’m certain, is not for us to pray for her. She was not looking down on all of us kneeling in the pews, all the family and friends who love her so much, thinking, yes, yes! Pray for me!
Nope, because Donna was a mom. And because of that short but very weighty title, I am sure that what Donna really, truly, absolutely wants is not about her, but about her family. She wants her family to be whole and well, for her husband and children to heal and grow, to be healthy and successful and joyful. And from those of us here, collected in her church, thinking of her and wishing things were different, I’m sure she would trade every one of our prayers on her behalf to prayers for her family … plus any real, earth-bound caretaking we can provide.

Because we moms assembled here today, and hugging each other at the viewing yesterday, and running into each other all year as we delivered meals and visited, we know all the million things involved in raising children, in keeping households running. We know what Donna did that her family doesn’t know: we know that the Q-Tips are buried somewhere under the bathroom sink, and the ballet costume needs pink tights but jazz needs white, that one kid likes chocolate but another one won’t eat it. We know that “mom” is a short word on purpose, because sometimes kids can only get out one syllable, and we’ll hear it screamed and sobbed and whispered, and that we are rarely prepared for whatever that word leads to.

So absolutely, I’m praying for Donna … and for her family. I’m not close enough to tell them which bathroom hides the Q-Tips, but I know that between us, all us moms will do what we can, as best we know, to step in and help, to give Donna what she really wants. And that’s the best tribute I can think of.

P.S.: Every family needs their mom. Think pink: Get a mammogram. Early. At the very least, in this thing, don’t put yourself last.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at liannewilkens@hotmail.com.