For many reasons, it's Mom's day

Inez Russell |

5/11/2008 - 5/11/08

Today — May 11 — was always an important day in my house, whether it fell on Mother's Day or not.

After all, today is my mother's birthday, falling in the middle of one of the more magical months of the year, starting with the scent of lilacs and ending with the warmth of early summer days and long summer evenings.

For our family, May 11 came halfway between a rush of other family birthdays. Both my grandmothers were born in May. My Auntie Inez, for whom I was named, had a May birthday, and even though she died the summer before her senior year, my grandmother always took flowers to the church on May 4 to mark her birthday.

And that was just one of the days we walked to church carrying flowers during May.

That's because May, above all, was and remains a time that Catholics honor the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus.

As a girl, I spent most afternoons in May trotting from our house on Seventh Street to the Immaculate Conception Church. One day, I'd take a spray of lilacs to place before Mary. Another day, it would be a fresh cutting of spring roses, or a bouquet of irises.

We didn't have fancy vases, but my Grandma Celia scrubbed her old mayonnaise jars until they shone. She'd cut the flowers from her garden and arrange them carefully, sending me off while she cooked dinner.

Sometimes she would walk with me, which, to be honest, wasn't my choice. If Grandma went, instead of me leaving the flowers and saying a quick prayer before Mary, we'd be on our knees reciting an entire rosary — or two, if I wasn't concentrating — and waiting to attend evening Mass.

Still, I loved leaving behind the bright day for the quiet of the church. In my memory, IC remains ever-dark and cool on those May afternoons. The side door was usually locked, so I'd go in the front, through the double doors across from Library Park. From there it was a long walk — on tiptoe, so I wouldn't make a noise — to the side altar where we liked leaving our flowers.

Each bunch of flowers represented a prayer, a need, a heartfelt desire from the person who carried them in with so much hope and faith. They weren't fancy, but they contained so much love.

We took flowers during other times of the year, but seldom daily as we did each May. Part of the routine included removing stale flowers and adding fresh water, making sure the gifts before Mary remained in prime condition. It was a task performed with love and reverence.

Back at home, we dealt with all the commotion of daily life — the end-of-school celebrations and tests, First Communion preparations, the many May birthdays and, of course, Mother's Day. May was a month to mark passages, but nowhere did we mark the time so closely as in our daily walks to the church. Those visits offered a touch of grace in a busy life.

These days, I drive to church because it's no longer just a half-block away. I can't gather as many flowers as my grandma did, either — I'm not the gardener she was. Even so, there's a bunch of dried lilacs on my home altar and I can't pass through a May without thinking of my many trips to fix the church flowers for my grandma.

She loved Mother's Day, as does my own mother, as do I, as do so many mothers.

This year, I have to find two presents — after all, it's my mom's birthday and Mother's Day. We'll be adding lilac bushes in her back yard so that next year, the smell of spring will greet her come May. I'm going to bake a birthday cake (strawberry shortcake counts as baking, right?) Her other present? She'll be surprised, that's all I'll say. Happy Mother's Day, Mom, to you and to all the other wonderful women celebrating today.

Inez Russell can be reached at inezrussell@msn.com.