On Mothers, Miracles and Mourning Doves - Katie

          A mourning dove has built a nest on the air conditioner outside my home office window. She must have been sitting on eggs because no matter what this past crazy April could throw at her, she didn't move (as far as I could tell). When an unseasonable snowstorm hit, I watched the snowflakes pile up on her; one afternoon some days later, a thunderstorm rolled through, fierce wind ruffling her feathers and rain dripping from her wings. Still, she maintained her stoic vigil. I realize that she is supposed to feel the elements, but this air conditioner is exposed, not a leaf or branch in sight. It seemed to me under different circumstances she might have spread her wings or flown the "coop," or something to escape the barrage nature unleashed. Instead, she was single-minded in her purpose, dove comfort be damned. When the eggs hatched, the real work began and she finally flew into action to care for and feed her squabs.

          There isn't a mother I know who doesn't understand the notion that just when you think the hard part is over, the real work begins. If I can just get him out of diapers; if he could just do well in school; if I can just teach her to be kind and honest and herself; if the mean girls could just leave her alone; if she could just get her license - to drive a 3000 pound machine - while dodging the minefields of alcohol, drugs and the boy next door. Oh, and find R-E-S-P-E-C-T for their mother at the same time.

          Motherhood requires the wisdom of the ages and the patience of Job, usually cultivated on the fly in the trenches of the latest challenge. Failure is inevitable, so resilience is imperative. Mothers are the ultimate caregiver, the keeper of maladies and camp director; they are unconditional love personified. God had a sense of humor when She placed such burden on the shoulders of one person. Fortunately, She passed the sense of humor on, so mothers could find reason to laugh at their predicament.

          Mothers may have superpowers, but they don't wear capes, making them miracles in disguise. Barbara Kingsolver seems to understand when she said, "Sometimes the strength of motherhood is greater than natural laws." As I write this, my mourning dove is teaching her offspring to flap their wings to prepare them to leave the nest. Her beautiful and melancholy lament, a call I have loved since my years in California, reminds me that the ultimate gift a mother brings is the one that teaches them to fly on their own and lets them go. (Katie)