What can you say?

For the past week I've been thinking a lot about Mother's day.

It has come to mind when I'm standing over the kitchen sink, pulling clothes out of the washer and changing diapers. What do I do for mother's day? What do you say to the woman who spent years of her life serving your physical needs?

What do you say?

I dig chokers out of the baby's mouth, put a band aid on a scraped knee, kiss a hurt forehead and think "How many times did she tend to our scrapes and bruises?" I read books; books about cowboys, about dinosaurs, about the earth. I read to them about their creator, their savior, their only hope -- just like I was read to.

Arguments are settled, correction is given, discipline carried out, tears, hugs and lots of Kleenex. I am reminded of my stubborn heart and the many spankings I required. It would have been much easier to ignore the need. Look away, pretend you didn't hear the hurtful words coming from an ugly heart.

Trips to the park, a visit to the zoo, race tracks outlined by chalk on the driveway, sunscreen application, extra laundry, wet footprints on the would be clean floor

...remind me of...

Flying kites, trips to the farm, picnics, the fort, beach towel hideouts, water parks, vacations, ice skating, homemade bread and butter. I never considered the behind the scene work that went into each special thing we did --until now. She had to consider the babies nap schedule, the three-year-olds access to a potty, stroller accessibly, she had to remember diapers, EpiPens, hand wipes, sunscreen, paper plates, shoes (because we sure didn't) hair clips, first aid gear, seat belts, snacks and sippie cups. -and that was just for a trip around the block.

At night my tired legs remind me of a woman who had two loads of laundry washed and oatmeal on the table before I woke up. Clothes on the floor after bath time makes me think of the many times I heard, "Go get your clothes out of the bathroom." and "Hang up your towel." and "Wipe up the water that spilled outside the tub."

Many many reminders. Much much training.

Such love.

And.

I have no words for her. No words can repay her.

And yet we have this day.

This day where we are supposed to sign our name to a canned message, lick a stamp and now we're all even.

A thank you can't do it. Yet often it sits there as our compensation to a woman who gave her sweat, sleep, tears, love and the last four bites of her dinner to us. Labor was the easy part.

So how do I repay her?

If she devoted her life to loving, playing, enjoying and leading her children to Jesus, what better (and none harder) gift to give her, then for me to do the same with mine.