Mothers’ Day.

If I ever had questions to what this beloved day meant beyond well-intended wishes and showing the whole world (well, my contacts) my mother’s face, today I know.

On days like these good daughters get their mothers flowers, cake, a nicely cooked meal and occasional good behavior. What did I get? I got my beloved mother a heart attack. Don’t they say unexpected gifts are the best?

If you want to the secret to successfully delivering this gift to your mum so suddenly that it is just shocking enough, I’ll let you in. Disclaimer, it has nothing to do with rubber and protruding bellies.

I offered to drive my mum to one of her online preaching sermons on Mothers’ day Sunday but instead of taking a direct route to church I took a detour to Mtaro town. It was not pretty. It takes a while to realize that you have ran a car into a ditch in broad daylight when not many trusted you to be a good driver to begin with, and now you can’t move. That doesn’t last for long anyway because the amount of time it takes for an army of men (males) to swarm around your car telling you what to do is as long as Safaricom takes to reclaim their debt once you top up.

I manage to get my quibbling arms and legs out of the drivers seat long enough for the car to be lifted out. But this story is not about what a bad driver I am. I’m the best, in fact. Hire me to be your personal chauffeur through the link at the end of this story. This story is about the beauty of true mothering as witnessed on it’s very day. It’s also a little bit about feminism. As always :)

My mum gets into the driver’s seat eventually and drives the rest of the way and back. And beyond her own shock and having to deal with the previously mentioned males demands for appreciation, she comforts me by giving me her own scary road story. She manages to deliver a heart-warming sermon, and takes me round after the service to hear everyone else’s crash story. Hilarious ones for sure. I bet they weren’t as funny when they happened. Ha-ha. The icing on the cake is done when she makes sure my father knows it was not my fault (even though it most definitely was), regardless of the amount of money that needs to be forked out to pay for damages.

Mothers are forgiving. Mothers are caring. Mothers are compassionate. Mothers feel our pain in ways that no other human being can. Mothers put their own pain and happiness behind the happiness of their loved ones. Mothers are loving. God, mothers are loving.

Proverbs 31:28–29:

“Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.’”