My mother loved pansies, and when I see them I always think of her. They are not only beautiful but very resilient like my mum. She always would say pansies look like they have a face. She died almost twenty years ago, though it seems like yesterday. She lives always very close to me, in the small of my heart.
When I reflect on mother's today, and my own mother, the word that comes to my mind is tenderness. I remember those small tender loving moments of my mother's love, and they are very precious to me. These take up the biggest part of my heart. Most of us have those kind of tender memories of our mothers, whether it be a touch, a word, a smile, or a tear that she wiped from our eyes. All of these convey a mother's love that cannot be underestimated in it's power, to heal, to transform, to encourage, and most of all to love.
We do not have to be a biological mother to mother, and many of us choose our mothers, and we choose our children. We love and can love them just as much as if they were part of our biological family, if not more so because we do choose to love them.
The day before yesterday I was at a friend's house who is a young mother of two little children. She told me of this story about a mother and father who had just become new parents of twins. One of the twins was healthy and the other was not, both being premature. The one little baby boy had actually been declared dead. The parents had accepted this, and had come to terms with this fact.
The mother spent the next two hours cuddling and speaking to the baby, with the father close by her side. What happened next, was nothing more than miraculous.