I seem to be stuck on Mother’s Day this month and the yin and yang of it.  Judith Voirst is one of my favorite writers.  What follows is an open letter she wrote to her son and was published by the New York Times in 2005.

That extravagant expressions of affection

Do not necessarily mean that our children adore us,

Or that their failure to write or phone or do lots of lovely things for us

Means that they don’t.

I am, in addition, well aware

That most of the wise, mature, sensible women I know

Have nothing but disdain for Mother’s Day,

Which they rightfully declare to be a crass, commercial way

Of getting guilty children to spend money.

Furthermore, I am hoping that I

Will turn into one of those wise, mature, sensible women

Long before this current decade is through.

But meanwhile, if you know what’s good for you,

Send flowers.


Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live.  Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.  Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.

We are so accustomed to hearing these words spoken at a marriage ceremony, that I don’t think many of us stop to ponder that this pledge was made by a daughter-in-law (Ruth) to a mother-in-law (Naomi).

It is a beautiful book in the Bible written about the love between two women and their resourcefulness in overcoming adversity.

If you have had times in your life when the love and friendship of women have helped you not just to survive but thrive, I invite you to link your story to Feminist Friday to celebrate all women on Sunday.

Wishing you times spent with cherished women friends family,