President Thornburg's Reflection 5.10.26

 

Today is Mother’s Day.  It’s a day we take time to honor and celebrate one of the most influential people in our lives.  Mothers have played a significant role in human history.  From our Blessed Mother, Mary, to our own mothers, they cannot be recognized enough.

 

Yet, the work of a mother can often go overlooked.  Mothers work behind the scenes, provide unconditional love, and often sacrifice for their children.  Their work becomes so enmeshed in the fabric of our lives that, at times, it is easy to overlook or fail to recognize the care and nurture they provide that no one else can.

 

I’ve shared before about my failure to do so as a young boy.  Mother’s Day was approaching, and I decided to buy my mother a card.  I didn’t have any money, and I didn’t have a way to get to the store.  Who would help me in such a dilemma?  My mother, of course!

 

She gave me some money and drove me to the store.  I went inside while she waited outside in the car.  I entered the store and walked over to the card rack to find one for her.  That’s when the squirt guns, located right next to the cards, caught my eye.  I am sure they were placed next to the Mother’s Day cards as part of some insidious marketing scheme.  I couldn’t resist the temptation and used my card money to purchase myself a squirt gun. 

 

I went back to the car, squirt gun hidden in a bag.  My mother drove cheerfully out of the parking lot and back home.  I am sure she felt a deep sense of pride and joy that her young son had taken the time to do something for her, showing his love.  Meanwhile, I sat next to her, thinking about who the first victim of my new purchase would be. 

 

Mother’s Day came and went.  I didn’t purchase the intended card, and I don’t remember my mother ever saying a word about its absence.  Yet, for the past forty-plus Mother’s Days since then, without fail, my mother will remind me of my epic failure to honor her that one day.  I will call her dutifully every year and wish her well on the special day.  Her reply, without fail, is always: “Did you get a new squirt gun?”

 

I have lived with a reminder of a mistake for years.  I even sent her a squirt gun one year, hoping it would erase my foolishness, but to no avail.  It is a running joke between us, and I am confident that this very Sunday we will have the same conversation. 

 

I implore any of you reading this reflection to procure a card for your mother if you are able.  Tell her how special she is to you, and show it.  I would do anything to turn back time and have bought that card.