Today is Mothering Sunday in the UK. Since I arrived ten days ago, I have seen many signs of what a big holiday this is. All the bakeries encourage you to order your Simnel Cake and nearly every popular musician has a CD of songs with special meaning for your mum. All the shops carry cards and the supermarket is stuffed with all kinds of flowers. People are planning to leave home early in the morning to get to mums in time for Sunday dinner.
The earliest records of a celebration of mothers date back to the ancient annual festivals honoring the maternal goddesses. Rhea, Hera, and Demeter, were favorites of the early Greeks and the Romans celebrated Cybele during the Hilaria, a three day festival that eventually got so wild that followers of Cybele were banished from Rome.
More Recently Mothering Day in England officially dates back to the 1600's, though many believe it is taken from the celebrations that the early Christians held in honor of the Virgin Mary. It is celebrated on the fourth Sunday of lent and the restrictions usually enforced during lent are relaxed for this day.
Mothers have been important in English history and literature for ages. They have been quite quirky, like mums in Jane Austen, powerful and politically astute like Eleanor of Aquitaine who bore and counseled three kings, and great warriors like Boudicca (pictured right), who started a war with Rome when her daughters were besmirched. And I've read more than one regency romance where the hero is driven by his mother, either to escape her dominance or out of respect and love for her. Regardless if he is the tortured dark loner, the honorable gentleman, or the alpha male who leaps to the rescue, mothers have made their sons into the heroes we love to read about.
My mother passed on nearly five years ago at the age of eighty. She didn't look a day over sixty (Great genes. I hope I get them:) ). She was an imposing woman. A force to be reckoned with. No one believes she was only five foot three, because her personality was so strong.
She was a leader in her community. She sat on the city council of our town for many years. She was a founder and president of her sorority's alumni chapter. She taught sixth grade for fifteen years then counseled middle school students for the same length of time.
When I was growing up, we fought many times. She was a person who wanted it done her way, or else. And I, especially as a teen, didn't want to do it her way. Mind you, I didn't give my parents many headaches. But my mother taught me to be an independent thinker, even though she didn't much like it when my thoughts were independent of what she thought(lol). But later in adulthood we did come to a level of mutual respect and understanding. By watching her, I learned to go for what I wanted and to not stop until I got it. And so today I am an author who is almost published.
Widow's Peak my first novel will be released on September 23rd, from The Wild Rose Press. It too is about a medieval mother, Lady Amye Barnard, who finds that after a long widowhood, life still has a few surprises for her. Here's a short excerpt:
Amye noticed the shift in breathing as her charge fell into slumber. She closed her book and quietly withdrew. Once outside she took a deep breath and leaned against the door. Had he called her beautiful? No. Be not foolish. He spoke of the reading.
Pushing aside thoughts of the handsome troubadour, Amye went to check on her household. In the list, Siward had just finished training the garrison. Their bodies, wet from the work of sword play, reminded her of wiping the sweat from Laine’s fevered brow. When she checked with Genevieve, in the kitchen, supper was nearly prepared. She wondered if the soup had been to his liking. A chill wind blew through the courtyard as she passed, and she ordered the braziers filled so he would be warm that night. Try as she might, thoughts of him intruded on her. Where did these feelings come from? I must stop this nonsense this instant.
Through much of my life, my mantra was "I will never be like my mother", but each day I see that I am getting to be more and more like her. I notice little mannerisms that she used to do or phrases she used creeping into my everyday actions. And at her funeral, dozens of people came up to me and said what an influence she had been on their lives. I realized then, that's how I want to be remembered. As a strong person who has been a good influence on those around her. I may not have helped hundreds of people like my mother, but I will do as much as I can for those who ask.
What is the most valuable thing that your mother taught you?
Leave a comment and I'll enter you in my Mothering Sunday contest to win this beautiful pewter and mother of pearl pendant on a silver chain from my trip to the UK!
