The Surprised Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is always special. My husband and children shower me with so much love, that each time I walk away feeling extremely blessed, appreciative and feeling unworthy of such wonderful gifts — my family. One Mother’s Day is especially memorable. My husband decides to record his voice and the boys’ voices, wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day. I had gotten hugs, kisses & gifts that morning and then we were in the car heading to church. I cut the radio on every Sunday and this day was no different….except it was different. I hear my children. I was totally floored. Even now as I reminisce, I sit speechless and overwhelmed with emotion. It was so unexpected, which probably was the point. My husband wanted to do something over the top and to say the least, he accomplished that goal. I heard everyone speak of their adoration for me. “Crying a river” is an understatement. My heart fell in the laps of my family and I continue lying there today. Callie spoke and I lost any energy I had. I became weak, and it wasn’t what he said. I couldn’t move and hardly breathe, because his voice grabbed my hand and rushed me back to ages 1, 2, 3, 4 where words were not present. With my eyes closed, the volume of my sense of hearing was blaring & unbelievably clear. 5, 6, 7, 8. . . .the ages I hear one word sentences, and as quickly as I had disappeared into the past, I am brought back in an instant to Callie’s voice, full sentences protruding from his lips. Simply amazing. My oldest was sounding debonair and mature, yet I could still feel his love & gratitude in every word as if he was telling me he loved me for the very first time. My two youngest were a mix of excitement from the chance to hear themselves through a microphone and a constant competition of who can show Mom more love. Their voices are so similar but I know their heartbeats apart and each paint the most beautiful & incredible picture of their love for me through the English language. Hearing “Mom” from all of them took me on a walk. The ups, falls, school, holidays, attitudes, hurts, cries, laughs. . . .growing up. It took me beyond my place where I was sitting. Immediately I was transferred into green pastures, surrounded by serenity. Everything else in the world of chaos and problems were blocked out, at least for that moment. . . .all for my heart to enjoy the embrace of these precious gifts that made room for me. My husband shares his “see-into-me” feelings at the end. He was last to speak but certainly not the least. His voice captivated my whole being and I was on a whirlwind again – this time, of radiant, ravishing memories. I saw our first date. I heard our first phone conversation. I felt our first kiss. With a tear stained face and with any make-up left smeared to no end, I turned to the man I said “I do” to years ago and knew no matter what life handed us, I would be intoxicatingly and endlessly in love with him. His love was like that magic carpet in Disney’s Aladin that flew me to a whole new world. Life has not been a ride off into the sunset. If you single out autism alone, you’ve described a big chunk of our existence. But as a family, we have seen the sun. We’ve seen the rain too and we’ve come close to rainbows. . . . .in any case, every Mother’s Day and actually, every day, I am forever grateful. . . .forever honored. . . .forever in awe of God and the arms He put in place to embrace me.

I would personally like to wish all autism Moms & special needs Moms a very “Happy Mother’s Day!” You are beauty. You are strength. You are tenacity. You are a warrior. I pray you rest in the love of your children and realize that you are their hero.


Thanks for listening,




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s