This morning my two sweet grand daughters woke me up, trying not to spill the hot cup of coffee which they’d carefully brought to me. “Happy Mother’s Day, Oma,” they giggled. “You don’t have to get up yet, but we brought you this.” I got up happy because they were up.  I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

It’s Mother’s Day, that special holiday where we honor our mothers.  Perhaps today Moms were served a special breakfast in bed or at the table or taken out for brunch or allowed to sleep in for a precious hour longer. Because “It’s what Mom wants, “ prodigals even went to church willingly on this Sunday.   Pastors blessed them.   Mothers smiled and prayed.

Of course, there is the commercial side to Mother’s Day. It is the second biggest consumer spending holiday, Christmas being Number One,  and it’s estimated that between 18 to 19 ½ billion dollars is spent. Yes, that is billions. And yes, that’s a lot of flowers, brunches,   dinners and Hallmark moments. Sentimentality works so well in our consumer driven culture.

“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you. Exodus 20:12

It isn’t sentimentality that makes me remember my mother today. It is God’s commandment to honor our mother and our father, even after they are no longer on this earth. I was taught this as a child and have never forgotten. Why? Because my  parents  honored their parents in fact and and always in memory of them.

My mother was not a sentimental person. She lived to be 88, had a good, long life. Her legacy to me is a full one. Now seven years after her passing, all the memories are precious even the difficult ones. She was a woman of deep faith in God who gave her the strength to endure horrific circumstances. She gave me life more than birth. But that’s another story.

I will remember my mother with flowers. In front of me on the table is a vase filled with lilies of the valley, fat green leaves and long stems holding tiny, white bell- shaped flowers. I tell the children that if they’re very quiet and listen carefully, they might hear the bells resound, like a sea shell held up to the ear. They’re still young enough to be filled with wonder. I also tell them that their Great Oma Elisabeth loved Maiglogchen ,  lilies of the valley, because they reminded her of Germany.

My mother loved flowers of every kind, had a front garden filled with flowers from spring through fall. Strangers and friends usually stopped to visit and ask her gardening secrets. New York rain and humidity, good black soil helped, but my mother had the creative gift for growing good and beautiful things and for welcoming people into her life.

The Maiglogchen in the vase grew in  my daughter’s Utah garden.  My mother’s legacy is being passed on  from me to my children and to theirs. This week I will dig up some pips to take home and transplant. Next year when they come up beneath my deck  they will   remind me  of my mother and  honor her. I believe that all prayers in the garden go straight to God’s heart!

EAG