(My) Mother’s Day

Mothers.

Blechhhh!  Of all the humans on earth, mothers can be my greatest headache.  Mothers most often come closest to thinking and acting in ways that I hate.  Their genuine care and devotion in selflessness drives me crazy.  They are most often the spiritual leaders in their households, which is a blessing and a curse.  But overall, I can’t say that I’m overly fond of mothers.  After all, I never had one.  Blechhhh!

Who, I wonder, had the great idea to make Mother’s Day a federally recognized day in the United States?  Actually, for a fascinating history of the origin of Mother’s Day I would urge you to link to the Front Porch Republic’s post on this topic.  But finish reading this first.

It’s starting now, my servants.  All across the east coast of America, rising like a wave of disgust to the west, sermons in churches are extolling motherhood.  Well, I have a few thoughts on the topic myself.  Do you want to hear them?

Yes?

OK. 

I actually love many mothers on earth everywhere, including the United States.  I love mothers who fail to effectively manage their households, devoting herself instead to all kinds of selfish distractions.  These mothers are often idlers, gossips and busybodies, saying things they ought not to.  The fruit of such mothers include immodest daughters without moral direction, ready to repeat my cycle of motherhood.  It’s a beautiful thing.  We see it everywhere.

I love mothers who obsess with the beauty that comes from outward adornment instead of their inner selves, the inner beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit.

Fortunately, the “gentle and quiet spirit” type of mother has gone out of vogue in the United States.  And do I dare mention the fruit of a gentle and quiet spirit? 

Really?  You won’t like this. 

Submission. 

Ha ha ha ha ha.

The very word will send many into fits, as I have successfully turned what God intended for good into a politically incorrect lightning rod.   Very few mothers-to-be even include “obey” in their wedding vows anymore.  And very few who did, do.  I like that.  Because what God holds as “fitting” and of “great worth” I hold as rubbish.  And God’s sadness is my gladness.

Hey, hey, hey!  Quiet down!  You can argue all you want about God’s views on submission and obedience in marriage.  I hear endless debates about the proper role of wives to husbands.  I don’t care where you come out on that.  I’m telling you the kind of mother that please moi.  And I love the unsubmissive, disobedient type.

In a related vein, I also love mothers who disrespect their husbands.  Acting like their husband’s mother is my favorite form of disrespect.  Constantly telling him what he should and shouldn’t be doing.  Reminding him often of his shortcomings and how he could do better.  Quietly killing his dreams with your negativity and discouragement.  Ahhh, I can feel the anger rising now.  It’s a beautiful thing.

It goes without saying, but I also like to extol the virtues of unfaithful mothers.  In fact, I find that disrespect often leads to unfaithfulness.  Of course I fill wayward mommies with justifying thoughts.  God gave me these needs (my favorite!); If he would love me I would love him; it’s not really adultery if we don’t have sex; oops, well, even if we do have sex, God will forgive me.  Mommies in hotel rooms with kiddies and hubby at home.  We put those pics into a special scrapbook.

Of course, no Mother’s Day sermon of mine would be complete without giving a hearty shout-out to those mothers who killed some or all of their children.  Don’t you mother’s of killed unborn sell yourselves short on this day: you are just as much mothers as those who decided not to kill their babies.  You can hold your heads high today, knowing that you, too, are a mother, even if you don’t have a crayon-scribbled card on your kitchen table today. 

And I get a double blessing from those mothers-of-the-eternally-unborn who fail to avail themselves of God’s forgiveness.  I love it on Mother’s Day when these no-mommies feel a heavy load of my guilt.  I try to keep these women captive to my kingdom of guilt and sorrow by ensuring they never realize that God still loves them.  Because for some reason that I never can figure out, God does love his people, all of them.   Even those who have sinned grievously.

I know it was Jesus.  The blood of Christ is powerful enough even to forgive and bring back to right standing mothers-of-the-eternally-unborn.

Bah!

Enough already.

Happy Mother’s Day to all!

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