Is it REALLY "Parents Day"?

I saw something on facebook earlier today when I was skimming through it that caused me to pause.  Almost as much as seeing something that says 'Grandparents Day'.    The posting simply stated that today is a "holiday" called 'Parents Day'.  Really?  And do they really expect our children to even care?  I mean, who came up with this 'holiday' anyway?  What is their reasoning behind it?

Was it a child who felt guilty for not showing their parents the respect they should and wanted to make it up to them?  Or was it a parent who wanted to make their child feel guilty?  Could go either way, you know!

To set the record straight, I think I have pretty good children - and of course adorable grandchildren.  Yes, in the 'growing up' years, things got testy at times, but overall, my children are good children.  Yes, they are adults now and now, as then, I question at times their mindsets.  I prayed my boys through high school.  God did a good job in answering those prayers.  My daughter is an excellent mother - I'm hoping she learned a little from me.  I have laughed the few times she called to say "I have become my mother!"

Do my children and grandchildren even know about these "holidays"?  Probably not, unless they shop a lot for cards, which is doubtful.  I had never heard about a 'parents day' until I saw it on facebook this morning.  I have known about grandparents day - which I believe is September 9th.  I could be wrong, but that date comes to mind.  It has been around for many years, for I used to send my mama cards from my children when they were younger.

I guess even more important is my question as to WHY do we need these two 'holidays'.   I know I don't see my children - or my grandchildren - as much as I want to.  Life is just too busy anymore for anyone.  But the thought has occurred to me today that when I die, would there be regrets of not stopping by to see me, or asking me to hang out with them for awhile.  Would there be regrets that we don't have more memories to share.  Just melancholy questions I am asking myself.

I packed up two of my children and myself with my new husband back in 1982 and moved across the nation - away from my mama and siblings.  Although I love Arizona and have no desire to move back to Indiana and its many seasons of cold, snow and rain, I have missed my mama so much.  My middle child moved to Arizona a few years later, after their father's passing.  I finally had all my children here with me - and yet, I missed so much.

My children often talk of moving back to Indiana.  I am ok with letting them go - not that I could stop them - but I hope that if they ever do, it will be for the right reasons.  I hope they remember they can never go back to the way it was.  Things are never the same.  My siblings have grown up, as have their cousins.  All have their own families and own traditions and own ways of doing things.  And they have done it for years without us - just as we have celebrated things our way without them. 

I wonder as people notice the comment about 'Parents Day' on facebook - although there was only one - what they would pause to reflect on.  Would it be their own parents, or perhaps those they have loved as parents.  Will it be their own style of parenting.

As parents, we often copy how we were raised as far as punishment and how much attention the children get.  I'm not any different.  Let me rephrase that.  I wasn't any different.   Wooden spoons, hairbrushes, belt buckles, switches, hands, etc. - I knew those quite a bit from my growing up years.  When my children were growing up, it was normal (I thought) to automatically threaten with the wooden spoon.

My daughter cured me of that.  When she was 5 or 6 years old I was trying to get her into bed.  She was really testing me, constantly getting up.  I threatened the wooden spoon.  I don't remember exactly why I was going to swat her bottom with the wooden spoon, but as my arm was coming down with the spoon, she fell onto the floor and bit my ankle.  With the sudden pain in my ankle, my hand continued to the source - and inadvertently smacked my daughter in the mouth.  I was devastated and cried.  I loved on my daughter and hugged her and was so sorry.  I sent her to the shower, and as she took her shower I could hear her singing "I love my mommy, I know she didn't mean to hurt me."   I don't think I ever used the spoon on her again - only she can answer that one, for I don't remember it.  I never wanted to hurt my child again.  Not to say that any of them didn't get spankings after that!

My father died at age 39 back in 1957.  I was seven years old, barely old enough to remember him. I do remember getting to snuggle with him late one night because I was sick - and so was he.  His bed was set up in the living room in our small apartment behind the store.   We didn't have much, but there was love in our family.  When my daddy died, our lives changed, not only for us six children, but for our mother.  Mama struggled for two years with six children alone, then she remarried.  Life changed for all of us after that - and not always for the better.  Life was tough many times.  Mama told me many stories about my real dad before she died.  The best part?  They were in love.

So the years have gone by and the times have changed.  My children are quick to remind me of how I punished them in their younger years - but I wonder if they will remember the tears I cried for them in prayer, seeking God on their behalf.  I wonder if they will recognize the tears that fell in their proud moments when I couldn't hold back them back.  Graduations.  Special birthdays.  Special gifts.  Weddings. Births of their children. Baptisms.  Special notes; painful letters; handwritten songs, that phone call that was for no other reason but to say I love you and wanted to know how you are.  

I know all three of my children read this, and occasionally my grandchildren - at least a couple of them.  I'm not writing any of these things to put anyone on a guilt trip or to make you think you need to call me, or invite me, or remember special days with me.  These thoughts will come to you after I'm gone.  I know, for I have them of my own mother. 

I want you to remember - my parents day gift to you - how much I love you.  I am so proud of each of you and the men and the woman you have become.  You excel in your own way, your own style of living life.  Things haven't always been easy, and you haven't always made the best decision, but then, neither have I.  I am not perfect by any means.

I am your mom.  I have never regretted living life with any of you.   Thank you for letting me be a part of your lives.   My prayer for each of you is that you will be a Follower of Jesus Christ, and allow Him to guide you and direct your path, all the days of your life.  You will truly live life to the fullest if you do that.  It won't be easy at times, but it is the best road to take.  I've never regretted it.  I could not pray a better prayer than that, and for His blessings to be upon you and your families.

I love you, my children, with all my heart.  Love your children with all your heart.  That is the best legacy you can leave them with.  I leave you with mine.

Mom