Mothering Sunday

Gone again, another Mothering Sunday. It’s a celebration, which is mums have hijacked but which had very little to do with us back in the 14th Century.

It was the one day a year that those in service could get away from work and go to their MOTHER church, that is their home church. They could be reunited with their sending community and, of course, their mothers too. It was more to do with community and family, than the celebration / appreciation of mothers that it has become.

Having said all that, I’m delighted to be appreciated on this Mothering Sunday. Up and down the country, year after year, churches prepare flowers (usually daffodils) so that children can give them to their mothers as part of the service. Growing up, I loved handing out these flowers, first to my mum, and then to any other women present that Sunday. When I was around 13 or 14, I was no longer a part of that ceremony, preferring to help others give the flowers out. This continued into my 20s. Each year I’d find some small, slightly shy child and take their hand so they could come to the front, gather a token of appreciation, and give it a lady in the congregation.

It was only 3 years ago that I shifted into the next phase: receiving. I was sat in the congregation, 26 years old and very much not a mother, when suddenly a child approached with flowers for me. And another. And another.

I wasn’t a mother, but I was involved in Sunday School. I was involved in various children’s lives. 

Now, I am a mother. This is my second Mothering Sunday. It’s wonderful receiving a token of appreciation from my daughter (and husband). It’s wonderful seeing mothers being celebrated everywhere. It is wonderful to take a moment and reflect about the women who have nurtured us and influenced us, so that we may be thankful for them.

So, whether you are a mother, or not… whether you are alone, or in a partnership… whether you have a colicky baby, a grumpy teen or middle aged offspring…


You are needed.

You are appreciated.

You are loved.

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