Mother's Week: People First.

Growing up, my mother made me do a lot of things I didn't want to do, embarrassing things like sing in front of the church with my brothers. I always claimed to hate it, but the reason I hated it was because she made me do it. But if I'm honest, I liked the attention. I suppose that makes me a diva. But this isn't about my neurosis. It's mother's day... which I will be stretching out a bit, because my mother is that special. So here's to mom and all the ways that she inspires me. A week of writing is far too little thanks.

My mother, Jane to those who love her, (and Delilah, or Diléeah to telemarketers) is a woman of action. My mother doesn't sit around philosophizing about things like I do, she gets things done. The walls I was raised in have witnessed appreciation dinners for teachers (complete with an entire pig roast), fifty or so guests each Christmas Eve, words of compassion and counsel, and more obnoxious teenagers streaking up and down the front porch than one could (or should be able to) count. I don't remember a time when we were prohibited from having someone over, even when Mom had a hard day and we were being jerks for even suggesting it. There was always some sort of treat waiting, along with lots of smiles.

Mom cared about people. They came first, even frustrating people, or people who might want to hurt you, or had hurt you already. Not that my mother was never hurt or frustrated, but it is obvious to me that my she always placed reconciliation in front of justice. My mother taught me that people are more important than being right, or understood, yourself.