Today is titled “Mother’s Day” here in this country…a supposed holiday where we are all expected to honor our mother’s. It is the day when the most flowers are purchased, the most phone calls placed, and the most restaurant reservations made. I wonder how much of this is done in obligation, and how much is done is genuine celebration.
In this family that I have raised, I have taught them that material objects are not what is important…it is not in the gifts or the amount of money that is spent, but is in the thought or the time that is spent. I have always told my kids that their presence is my presents, and that I would much rather have a gift made by their hands, or time with them, than anything purchased from a store or money spent on a card.
I’ve been working on helping my folks build their first vegetable garden. Dad needs something to do with his time or he gets depressed, and Mom needs Dad to do something with his time or he drives her nuts. So, I went over to the house Jorge is renting for them a couple months ago (the Treehouse) and cleaned up the yard, making room for a garden. I talked to Dad about the fact that raised beds were the easiest to manage and maintain, and where he might like to put garden boxes. I had the men in this family come over and put my greenhouse up there and then I took Mom and Dad to our local organic market and bought them a load of organic vegetable starts and some organic potting soil, and pots…giving Dad instructions on how to repot all the little starts into bigger pots, and that we would wait for the end of May to fill the garden boxes with soil…until the danger of last frost was past. Since then, Dad has been in that greenhouse three times a day Mom says, working with all those little babies and tendering them to life and growth. They are now all aching to be released from their pots into the beds.
Yesterday, we spent the entire day at Mom and Dad’s Treehouse in the Harbor. I had ordered up 6 yards of organic vegetable soil for the raised beds Dad built, and had it delivered at noon. In the morning, daughter Katie and her kids, daughter Mina, her husby Mike and their kids, sister Mari & her husby Hugo and their kids, my friend Jeff, daughter Kaya, and our old family friend Pete showed up to move things out of the way so the truck could deliver the soil and we could haul and dump it into the waiting beds. My GrandKids loved watching the big truck come and dump the dirt, and got into the spirit of everyone helping to make this garden happen for Dad and Mom. By the end of the day, all was cleaned up, put back, and those beds were overflowing with beautiful, dark, rich soil…with extra to make beds in the greenhouse on another day.
This is what gifting is about to me…being together, laughing, playing, working, creating something wonderful for another person…this is the true spirit of Mother’s Day, or a Birth Day, or any other holiday where our culture expects material items as exchanges of love.
Today, I am going back to spend the day with my beloved Mother and Father…to lay the soaker hoses into the beds and hook them up to the timer…to place the babies into the soil and make sure all is well in their world…to clean and clear the greenhouse, and talk to Dad about making the beds in there, and start new seedlings so that we can stagger plantings and have food non-stop as all of this continues to grow. To give my Dad something to do.
Even though it is Mother’s Day…this is all really for Dad. Mom would love to garden I think, but is giving this all over to Dad, because she has her spinning and knitting, which keeps her very happy…and he needs something that he can call his own, which is creative and manifestive. There is nothing greater than tendering life.
So, Happy Mother’s Day to me…a day where I will spend my time in service to my own Mother, and my Father…those who tendered my life. This day, I am so grateful to You, Oh My God…Who gave me life through my Mother and Father, and Who tenders my life now and always, on such an amazing scale. This day, I dedicate to You, and through my hands, offer service to You, through the eyes and smiles of my beloved parents. Thank you for such loving and kind parents Oh My God. Through them, I see YOU.