Mother’s Day

(Unless otherwise noted, the Kathryn Tucker Windham blog is written by her children, Ben Windham and Dilcy Windham Hilley.)


​Mother’s Day is nearly upon us.  It’s a sweet occasion and important to many mamas who look forward to that special time.


While my mother was in this world, we never celebrated Mother’s Day.  She thought it was an insult to allot a measly 24 hours to recognize the person who does a yeoman’s job year-round.  Just an insult!  


But because she was widely loved, people often sent her Mother’s Day greetings and little gifts.  Mother, of course, appreciated all the gestures of affection but often had little use for the gifts she received.  The presents usually wound up in the top of the hall closet along with an assortment of gift bags and bows that were “perfectly good for reusing.”


One Mother’s Day, I asked my mother if she had any guilt about storing away the things that the well-intended sent her.  Instead of answering me, she went to her room and returned with her Bible.  She thumbed through it and pulled from the worn pages a yellowed clipping.  It was a poem by Jane Merchant called “The Gift.”  It read:


    Whatever gift I give to you is yours.
    Give it away, or keep it, as you will.
    The special books, the china miniatures,
    The little birds carved with beguiling skill


    I shall not peer about your house to see
    If they are dusted well and duly shown
    To visitors, as treasured things may be.
    I made a gift of them, and not a loan.
    
    I know that gifts sincerely loved
    Both for themselves and for the giver’s sake
    Have in life’s many changes often proved
    A burden; be relieved of the mistake
    Of thinking you must keep a gift I give
    (Except my love) as long as you shall live.