Happy Mother's Day!

Sitting here alone on Mother’s Day as the rest of my family slumbers peacefully (or so they are pretending), I think about the women in my life who’ve made a difference in who I have become and yet may not know the influence they have had. It is not easy for me to say those words that adequately express my love and appreciation, but hopefully they know of my love and appreciation.

I heard this song this morning and really actually listened to the words. I know that this is the case with my wife, Jana, and I imagine it is true for many others. We see the screw-ups in ourselves pretty clearly, and we can remember them forever. It’s the everyday, just regular good stuff about ourselves that we don’t recognize.

For all of those “soccer moms” out there, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

Quarter to seven on a Thursday night

She’s running late again

She gets a ticket ‘cause she ran the light

Racing to help a friend

Then she remembers a promise made

A couple of weeks before

She’d bake the brownies for the PTA

But she’s run out of time

So she gets hers from the store

Quarter to seven on a Friday night

She’s running late again

What can she wear that’s gonna look just right

At the party she’s throwing for him?

Living on rice cakes and Diet Coke

She hasn’t lost that much

Her dress is too tight and her hair’s a joke

But the party’s a hit‘Cause it had her magic touch

And she doesn’t know

That she’s an angel in disguise

And she doesn’t know

That we see heaven in her eyes

And she doesn’t know that she’s all right

She might have been blinded by the light

Of all the good that she does

That she doesn’t know

She’s been worried ‘bout the kids next door

Since the breakup last fall

Got them some T-shirts from a Hard Rock store

That they haven’t worn at all

Reading the paper about some plight

Plaguing a distant shore

Pulls out her checkbook and starts to write

And feels guilty she doesn’t send more

She doesn’t focus on the good she does

All she sees is where she’s failed her part

Can’t she see that we think she’s a saint

Because she’s givin’ all she has straight from her heart

Quarter to seven on a Sunday morn

She’s on her knees again

Aching for all who’ve been bruised and torn

She’s pleading for help for them

She has a rather extensive list

Of those she’s been praying for

But then she remembers the ones she missed

How sorry she feels once more

‘Cause she doesn’t know

That she’s an angel in disguise

And she doesn’t know that we see

Heaven in her eyes

And she doesn’t know that she’s all right

She might have been blinded by the light

Of all the good that she does

But she doesn’t see it because

She hits a traffic jam on a carpool morn

And feels guilty what she’s thinkin’

When she honks her horn

She wrote a sympathy note for her dear friend, Grace

But got it lost somewhere in cyberspace

And at the charity auction when she wanted to help

She raised her hands so many times she sort of bid against herself

She got the casserole made for her friend who was sick

But then apologized because the crust was too thick

She’s runnin’ to the soccer and the baseball games

She cheers for the teams but forgets their names

She doesn’t know that she’s a miracle

She doesn’t know her love is lyrical

She doesn’t know this song’s for her to hear

She doesn’t know that we are so sincere

She doesn’t know that she’s the best

She doesn’t know she’s passed the test

She doesn’t know,

she doesn’t know

She doesn’t know

***Words by Michael McLean