It may come as a surprise to you–even shock you a little– learning your Mama kept secrets from you. And still does when she deems it necessary. Not mistruths–but secrets.
Like for example...
She never told you as a teenager, she couldn’t sleep nights until she saw headlights shining through the bedroom window. And then she knew--you were safe and sound–home.
She never told you how often her pillow was soaked in tears over the little things–such as the first time you were running a fever and she held you all day. And she as a young mother had no idea what to do besides hold you close and pray.
She never told you the times you came home from school with an order form for pictures or an invitation to the book fair to buy books, or a note from the teacher needing supplies for an upcoming party. And your family’s bank account was near the bottom--broke. You never knew. It was a secret. Because she made it work–somehow.
She never told you just how hard her heart worried, maybe even hurt. A little–NO. A LOT. Watching and growing with you through all your firsts and lasts. Your first day at school–first day of high school–first day you sat at the wheel, alone, and she watched you drive away. Or the first time you fell in love and then experienced heartbreak. Or your first day of college. First day at work, at your first job. And your lasts–last day of kindergarten–last day of high school–or the last night you slept in your bed at home as her baby girl or baby boy–because when tomorrow came–your wedding vows did too.
She never told you of the many nights she stayed up late to make sure your ball uniform was washed and dried and hanging up in your room the next morning–ready for the next game.
She never told you there were days she looked at other Mamas who seemed to have it all together and compared herself to them. Labeled herself a loser Mama and questioned why she wasn’t a better Mama. That she just couldn’t seem to get it all done. Get it right.
She never told you the number of diapers she changed, or meals she prepared, or how many pairs of socks she matched or didn’t. But you can bet she always counted the number of candles on your birthday cake.
She never told you how she worried all day--were you cold--were you going to get sick--the day she dressed you for school in shorts and a t-shirt and it was colder than expected.
She never told you she wanted to run away and hide, just for a few hours on the difficult, most terrible days–of being a Mama.
She never told you there were bits of egg shells in the birthday cake you made her. You didn’t know–she ate shells and all.
She never told you–she knew. She knew you had found your Christmas present hidden deep inside the closet, unwrapped it, and wrapped it back.
She never told you on some occasions she didn’t tell your Daddy–everything. Even though she said more than once, ‘Wait until your Daddy gets home!’
Mamas do keep secrets, dear child. You can count on them.
From a Mama who kept secrets
and her Mama kept secrets
and her Mama kept secrets
and one day dear child you will keep secrets from your children too
and love flows on like a mighty river…..
Happy Mother's Day