Mother's Day For The Motherless

"One of these mornings you're gonna rise up singin'
Then you'll spread your wings and you'll fly to the sky"
 - Summertime, from the musical Porgy and Bess



"Now," the pastor said, opening his arms wide, "Every mother and child, stand up."
All around the sanctuary, people stood, embracing and holding hands. Mothers with young children and with grown children who had little ones of their own, generations standing together, connected.

On my left, one of the Casa Gabriel boys, "L", leaned his shoulder briefly against mine. I leaned back and he put his arm around my shoulder. To my right, Debbie reached an arm across us to grip the shoulder of "D". We stayed that way, connected yet not standing, Debbie and I desperately wanting these boys to know that though we weren't their mothers, couldn't be, still we love them so much.


L. was physically and verbally abused by his mom. An aunt is the closest thing to a mother for D. As the pastor at the front of the church praised mothers, on and on, I knew the boys beside me must have been thinking, "If mothers are such an important role in everyone's life, a role specially created by God, what happened with mine? Why don't I have what most of the people in this church have so naturally?"

After church, Phil sat down with the boys present that morning and told them plainly and kindly how difficult this holiday is for them. They talked for quite some time, Phil validating their feelings of loss and assuring the there is nothing wrong with them.


For weeks before Mother's Day, we're all bombarded with well-meaning reminders.
"Buy a card! Chocolate! Flowers!" proclaim signs in most windows. So then, what do you do for the motherless? For those who either have no living mother, or for those who ran away from home again, and again, and again, because sleeping on the streets was better than being beaten or rejected?

Two of the boys have mothers whom they were able to go visit that day. For one, his mother is stable now that she's out of jail and living for Christ, though the situation with her husband can be tenuous, making it best for the son to live at Casa Gabriel away from his stepdad.
The other boy's mom is mentally unstable. He ran away at a young age to avoid having things thrown at him while she screamed. All these years later, he is eager to study social work in hopes of helping his mom and others.

I take for granted so often the little luxuries I grew up with. A comfortable home, a good education, basic needs met, parents who loved me. I see these boys and am amazed at how far they've come on so little. Like any group of teenagers, there is the common thread of complaining and bad attitudes about chores and house rules. Typical, yes, though on a holiday like Mother's Day I wonder; what part of them is truly annoyed over having to do the dishes, and what part of them is hurting over having been neglected? While stomping around in a mood, is it while wondering why God dealt them such a poor hand for so long? God is father, but this can be a difficult concept, when most of their own fathers abandoned them before they were born. Why? Why so unfair? Shouldn't it be a little thing to ask, that the people who conceived you and brought you into the world love you?

In church, L. grinned and poked me, knowing he can get away with it. He likes to try and press people's buttons to see how far he can push them. I hope, and believe, he realizes that even when I block him from tickling me, or tell him not to playfully punch me quite so hard in the ribs, he knows he is in a safe place full of people who love him. All these boys, motherless or abandoned, are so very loved every single day. Some days, we just have to work a little harder to remind them of it.