I’ve fallen foul of it several times. My brother, who lives in the Far East, gets it wrong every year. The confusion has resulted in quite the most incredible mother in the entire universe wondering what she’s done to deserve being forgotten on a day she should be the centre of attention. I’m talking about my mother, and about Mothering Sunday. Or is that Mothers Day, or perhaps Mother’s Day?
In the UK, we celebrate our Mums on a different day than when the US celebrates Moms. Back in Blighty, Mothering Sunday falls on the fourth Sunday in Lent, while in America (and most of the world), Mother’s Day is always on the second Sunday in May. Just to add to the muddle, in other countries, mothers are celebrated on special days throughout the year – from January in Myanmar to December in Panama and Indonesia.
Our current tradition of celebrating and thanking our mothers is consistent with the States, but the roots of the celebration are different again and in a fascinating and thought- provoking way.
Mothering Sunday was traditionally the day when, during the 16th century, people returned to their ‘mother church’ – the church in the town or village where they came from. This later evolved into the day when servants were given a day off to visit the mother church with their own mothers and family, often the only time that the whole family would be together. The children would pick wild flowers along the way to give to their mothers.
The modern celebration owes much to the influence of American and Canadian soldiers serving in England during WWII, when the traditions of Mothering Sunday merged with those of the more overtly commercial American Mother’s Day.
Mother’s Day (note the placement of the apostrophe) began in the US in 1908 when a West Virginian, named Anna Jarvis, held a memorial for her mother. She campaigned to make Mother’s Day a holiday and in 1914 succeeded, though by the 20s was already saddened by the commercialisation of her original idea.
She spent all her inheritance and the rest of her life fighting what she saw as an abuse of the celebration and was even arrested in 1948 protesting about the “Hallmark holiday” she felt it had become. The tradition of giving cards and presents is now firmly established and Mother’s Day is one of the most lucrative of celebrations outside Christmas.
I celebrated Mothering Sunday with my mother (in her late 80s) and my daughter (aged 2), something which felt very right and made me very happy. I ran Sunday school for children at church, and we considered the idea that Mothering isn’t simply about mothers, it’s about the concept of mothering – about love and respect, nurture and compassion.
We sat and thought about all the people who looked after them – their child minders – nursery teachers, group leaders and so on. It was wonderful listening to young people reflecting on how they were loved and ‘mothered’ by so many.
The children then helped give little bunches of flowers to everyone who was there – old, young, male, female, mothers and those who had lost mothers. Together, we celebrated mothers and mothering. It was inclusive and it was also supportive and soothing for people who had lost their mothers and even for those who didn’t have their own children.
I think this is a wonderful way to think about Mother’s Day, particularly from the perspective of an older parent, one who, as in my case may be caring for a mother and mothering a child, mothering in the middle if you like.
So, whether you’re a Mum, or a Mom, a son or a daughter, celebrate your own mother but take time to reflect on all those who have mothered you along the way. And, maybe in support of poor, disillusioned Anna Jarvis, write a letter in your own hand thanking your special someone(s)s for their love, rather than signing your name under a “Hallmark-style” message in a pre-printed greeting card.
Now I must go and break it to my brother that he missed Mothering Sunday this year, and suggest he seize the chance to make up for it by getting in touch with our mother on Mother’s Day.