A Mothers' Day Memory

I was talking with a friend today about Mothers' Day and was asked about how it was celebrated when I was a kid. I remember very little about the particulars of any celebrations, although I'm certain they all involved cards of affection and gifts galore, but I do remember one particular controversy in which I was heavily involved many years ago that surrounded this most holy day.

At the little church I attended as a child every year a contest was held to elect one mother to be mother of the year. The way the contest worked was that individuals would right letters to nominate someone to the position, and then some unnamed panel would read the letters and select a winner. In hindsight I suspect that the winners were actually selected on a rotating basis and that the entire racket was a ruse designed to get children to say nice things about their own mothers just in case they forgot to buy a card or perfume or some other nice gift for their moms.

I still remember very clearly the first and, as far as I recall, only time I wrote a letter for the contest. I was, I think, six or seven years old, and I constructed an eloquent and beautiful letter of nomination, enumerating all of the wonderful traits and characteristics that elevated the nominee to the status of sainthood. I waxed on about how much she cared for me and how she knew all my favorite snacks and what television programs I liked to watch and what time of the day I rode my bicycle and what kind of toothpaste I preferred and how she was always so very accommodating in meeting all the needs of my life. I thought it was a powerful and moving tribute that would surely bring the judges to tears to select my nominee as mother of the year.

I should probably tell you that I did not nominate my own mother. No, I nominated Zina Blowers (I swear to you that I am not making that name up, either), who was Nathan's mom. I used to stay at their house quite often whenever my parents would travel out of town and she truly was an extraordinary woman. Unfortunately, no one told me beforehand that it was bad form to nominate someone else's mother for mother of the year. No one bothered to explain that I was supposed to write a letter nominating my own mother. It wasn't that I didn't think she wasn't deserving, it's just that it seemed so un-Christian to nominate one's own mother for such an honor--that modesty and humility would indicate that one should nominate someone else's mother and that someone else would nominate my own.

Apparently this caused quite a bit of controversy. I remember being "talked to" ("talked at"?) by a lot of people, beginning with my bossy older sister and continuing right on up the food chain to the pastor. I never did quite fully understand what I did wrong, but then I'm the type of person who believes that in an election situation I shouldn't vote for myself, either.

And so, if I could do it all over again, I would probably comply and nominate my own mother. You see--we can be liberated from our pasts! I wonder if that's what the songwriter had in mind when he wrote, "Glorious Freedom"?