Before I became a mother myself I found it a difficult day, especially as a child. I used to be embarrassed for the girls at school who asked me what I was getting for my mum, forgetting I didn't have one. But, of course, I did have a mother once, and a very good one at that. I thank God for her love, her care, her wisdom, her kindness and humour, her faith and her prayers for my brothers and me.
This is my mother with her father on the day she married my dad. I love her expression. She looks full to bursting - and her dapper dad looks so proud of his daughter!
When I look at this photo and think of my mother, I still cry for the relationship I've lost. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a mum after forty two years without one, but I would love life to have played out differently. I would love to have seen Mum holding my children; watched her growing to love my husband. And there are so many questions I'd like to ask and conversations I'd like to have with her... a hug would be good too.
Once, a dozen or so years ago, when I was overwhelmed with longing for Mum, out of the blue, I suddenly experienced the deepest sense of peace I'd ever felt. It was a deep, velvety, dark, quiet, still peace like no other.
Mostly though, I don't cry over my motherless state, after all it's quite ordinary when you're 55... and having my own grown-up children to hug brings its own, special healing.
I know I'll see my mum again one day, and maybe my tears are partly wrapped up in a longing for that day too. I like the idea that, as time is firmly attached to the days and nights of this world, heaven is outside time. That means in some sense I'm already there, singing, dancing and laughing with both my parents. I like that.
That day will bring my ultimate healing. When I see God face to face, the God who met me out of the blue as a Mother of all mothers and Father of all fathers, the longing will be over.
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