A mother holds her
children's hands for
a little while.
Their hearts forever.
~Unknown~

Contrary to popular belief, Mother's Day was not conceived and fine-tuned in the boardroom of Hallmark. The earliest tributes to mothers date back to the annual spring festival the Greeks dedicated to Rhea, the mother of many deities, and to the offerings ancient Romans made to their Great Mother of Gods, Cybele. Christians celebrated this festival on the fourth Sunday in Lent in honor of Mary, mother of Christ. In England this holiday was expanded to include all mothers and was called Mothering Sunday.

In the United States, Mother's Day started nearly 150 years ago, when Anna Jarvis, an Appalachian homemaker, organized a day to raise awareness of poor health conditions in her community, a cause she believed would be best advocated by mothers. She called it "Mother's Work Day."

Fifteen years later, Julia Ward Howe, a Boston poet, pacifist, suffragist, and author of the lyrics to the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," organized a day encouraging mothers to rally for peace, since she believed they bore the loss of human life more harshly than anyone else.

In 1905 when Anna Jarvis died, her daughter, also named Anna, began a campaign to memorialize the life work of her mother. Legend has it that young Anna remembered a Sunday school lesson that her mother gave in which she said, "I hope and pray that someone, sometime, will found a memorial mother's day. There are many days for men, but none for mothers."

Anna began to lobby prominent businessmen like John Wannamaker, and politicians including Presidents Taft and Roosevelt to support her campaign to create a special day to honor mothers. At one of the first services organized to celebrate Anna's mother in 1908, at her church in West Virginia, Anna handed out her mother's favorite flower, the white carnation. Five years later, the House of Representatives adopted a resolution calling for officials of the federal government to wear white carnations on Mother's Day. In 1914 Anna's hard work paid off when Woodrow Wilson signed a bill recognizing Mother's Day as a national holiday.

At first, people observed Mother's Day by attending church, writing letters to their mothers, and eventually, by sending cards, presents, and flowers. With the increasing gift-giving activity associated with Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis became enraged. She believed that the day's sentiment was being sacrificed at the expense of greed and profit. In 1923 she filed a lawsuit to stop a Mother's Day festival, and was even arrested for disturbing the peace at a convention selling carnations for a war mother's group. Before her death in 1948, Jarvis is said to have confessed that she regretted ever starting the mother's day tradition.

Despite Jarvis's misgivings, Mother's Day has flourished in the United States. In fact, the second Sunday of May has become the most popular day of the year to dine out, and telephone lines record their highest traffic, as sons and daughters everywhere take advantage of this day to honor and to express appreciation of their mothers.

from Biography.com

Our Mother Line:

Biographies of our grandmothers and great-grandmothers

Margaret Ruth Davidson Kimes - Grandma

Katharine May Vadakin Davidson - Great-Grandma

Mable Anna Howell Ash  - Grandma

Rebecca Nelma Maizland Sefton Stark - Grandma

Eleanor Emma "Nellie" Barnes Walton  - Little Grandma

Elsie Lucretia Race Walton - Grandma

Mary Ann Johnson Barnes - Great Grannie

More on women & our families

To Our Moms

This is for all the mothers who DIDN'T win Mother of the Year. All the runners-up and all the wannabes. The mothers too tired to enter or too busy to care.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" they could say, "Of course, wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."

This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and made them homes.

For all the mothers of the victims of the Colorado shooting, and the mothers of the murderers. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

I think so. So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.

This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired 2 year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who taught their daughters to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

For all the mothers who bite their lips-sometimes until they bleed-when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

Who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse and hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.

©1999 Cindy Lange-Kubick
Columnist, Lincoln Journal Star
Lincoln, Nebraska, USA
 

When God Made Moms

When the good Lord was creating mothers!!!!!
He was into His sixth day of "overtime when the angel appeared and said,
"You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
AND THE LORD SAID....."Have you read the specs on this order?
She has to be completely washable, but not plastic.
Have 180 moveable parts... all replaceable.
Run on black coffee and leftovers.
Have a lap that disappears when she stands up,
a kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg
to a disappointed love affair, and six pairs of hands."
And the angel shook her head slowly and said,
"Six pairs of hands...no way."
"It is not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord,
"It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
THE LORD NODDED....One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks
"What are you kids doing in there?" when she already knows.
Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't,
but what she has to know;
and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when

he goofs up and say,
"I understand and I love you", without so much as uttering a word."
"Lord", said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "go to bed, tomorrow...."
"I can't", said the Lord, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself.
Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick....
can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger,
and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."
The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly.
"It's too soft", she sighed.
"But tough!" said the Lord excitedly.
You cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure."
"Can it think?"
"Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise", said the Creator.
Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.
"There's a leak", she pronounced.
"I told you, you were trying to put too much into this model."
"It's not a leak", said the Lord. "It's a tear".
"What's it for?"
"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness and pride."
"You're a genius", said the angel.
THE LORD LOOKED SOMBER.....
"BUT I DIDN'T PUT IT THERE".

By Erma Bombeck

A Mother's Day Corsage

Red indicates your mother is alive
White indicates your mother passed away
Yellow indicates you're a Bereaved Mother.

The Symbolism of Flowers