Unsettled

Tonight is the eve of Mother's Day. I speak with my mom nearly daily and I see her several times a week. I am so fortunate, and yet I lie on my couch in a state of complete and utter unsettledness.

Those of you who have followed my marathon journey from running 26.2 miles physically into the metaphoric world of running the marathon of being a single parent to a child with a past checkered with adults who either didn't know how or wouldn't act upon their knowledge to be loving, caring and healthy moms and dads. . . that's a run on sentence, but hey, this is a marathon blog so a run on sentence seems fitting in an unsettled kind of way.Anyway, y'all know i Have a child now. That's the point I was trying to get and only realized in hindsight and proofing I forgot to make the point.

As we are all celebrating our moms and how wonderful they are my kid will be reminded of how shitty his was. He will be reminded of the inner conflict and raging fire that burns in two directions of hating her and yet wanting to be with her. He will be reminded, yet again, of how different he is from the mainstream. He has noone to buy flowers for, a card for, to do something extra nice for. Someone to say thank you to. Someone to pamper for the day. Someone to tuck him in and say, "you've made my life incredible!" in a motherly kind of way. I'm a single parent and I wear the hate of mom and dad, but I'm not a mom and I cannot be a substitute. no, I won't steal my child's story from him and insult his experiences. But I want to. I want to snatch him up and cradle him in my arms as I so fondly remember my mom doing time and time again. I want to be the familiar scent that belonged only to my mom. I want to erase the horrible memories and replace them with loving ones.

I want for my child everything that I had growing up and deserved absolutely no more than my child deserves today. But that cannot happen. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic and ego centric. Maybe it isn't that big of a deal at all. Maybe I'm over-analyzing. I don't even know where my thoughts are going except that tonight, after nearly four months, my kid could not go to sleep for fear of a stranger breaking in and murdering him and him not being able to scream loudly enough for me to hear. And this is after we honored and celebrated my mom all this past week. I weep for a childhood that was not lost to my child, rather it was never given to him.

And so tomorrow when churches are full of people honoring their moms and giving them flowers (we will be hosting my own mom for mid-morning brunch) I ask that you join me in lifting all our momless brothers and sisters up. Lord, hear our prayers, replace the hatred with love, the rage with understanding. The anger with compassion. Replenish empty coffers gone hard and cold from rejection. Heal those who are hurting and those engaged in healing. Inspire those who have not seen, but can do so much more. Enable each of our hands, hearts, bodies and minds to be vessels of endless love, boundless joy, contagious laughter and healing touch. Let us be enough. Let us love enough. Let us mom enough.

I don't even know if that's 26.2 cents worth or not, but there it is.