I have worked in a school district here in the valley for many years.  This is the first year I do not work in a public school.  However, I do remember every Mother's Day, I would tutor my students in the cards, the bookmarks, the tissue paper flowers, and so on that our small children would eagerly make to honour their mothers.  To us, who have had our imaginations tempered by reality, the drawings, the mis-spelled words, the colouring out of lines, looked haphazard at best, but to the children, their make and take projects seemed as paintings that would dawn the refrigerator door like priceless masterpieces in a world museum.  

I am a mother too.  I have older children now, 3 of them, all grown up and making their own way through life.  Just like all other mothers I suppose, I wonder what kind of world my child will grow to inherit.  I wonder if those things I tried to instill into them will be relevent in the world they will have to deal with.  

This Mother's Day, I will not have my son at home.  I will not know what he is doing.  I will not know how he feels.  He may not get a chance to write to me, call me, E-mail to me unless someone lets him do it.  In the garage is a symbol of his manhood, his prize Subaru racecar.  On the mantle is a symbol of my boy, a vase of paper flowers he made in school.   In mom's heart, there is only hope.  I hope that all the prayers, that all the lecture, that all of the mother stuff (moms know what I mean) has made him a person of integrity.  I hope that it has proofed him against undue anger and hatred.  I hope he makes no enemies.  I hope he comes home safe and sane.

All mom can do is pray