A Mother's Day Tale

Once upon a time there was a young boy who liked baseball. He liked baseball so much that he would often hold on to a baseball inside the house just to practice placing his fingers on the stitches to form the perfect curveball grip.

Well, one day while watching a baseball game on TV the young boy was gently tossing the ball against the back of the couch cushion. And, as often does when baseballs are brought indoors, an accident occurred. That perfect curveball grip failed to produce a curve and the ball gently crashed into the picture frame over the couch. 

The boy’s father was not happy. The boy had to accompany said unhappy father to the frame store and see the price of the new glass that was needed to cover the artwork. The young boy was sorry he had broken the picture. Sorry he had to use grass-mowing money to pay for it. And angry at Greg Maddux for demonstrating a faulty grip for a good curveball. 

He was also clearly warned by his father that this was to be a one-time occurrence. 

And it was, until a few weeks later. The boy’s father was in the Army, and on this particular Saturday the boy’s father was gone for the weekend. When the cat’s away…

The recalcitrant boy started his routine of watching a baseball game and gently tossing the baseball against the couch cushion. And before too long, an errant toss led to a stomach dropping crash. 

Enter the young boy’s mother. And while (spoiler alert) she is the hero of this story, she was not happy when she saw what had happened. But she also saw the wretched state of her son whose immediate plea was: don’t tell Dad.

During the glass clean up procedure, the boy’s mind raced with how he could get the frame repaired and back on the wall before his father was home. But the truth was, at 10-years-old he didn’t have a clue how these sort of grown-up things worked and just begged his mom to help. 

And in true Mom-style, she did. She took the artwork to the frame store where they said they could fix it. The problem was it would take about a week and the picture would have to stay there. On the way home, the boy begged his mom again not to tell his dad. He was ashamed and embarrassed and felt hopelessly in over his head. 

His mom said that his dad was bound to notice the very large picture missing from over the couch. The boy knew he was dead to rights. 

From this side, being a parent myself, I still don’t know if she told. She may not have said anything because more pressing matters came up and it would have just been another thing. She may have told him but asked him not to say anything to the son about it. Or she may have just let this one go. 

Either way, to the boy, his dad didn’t notice the picture missing and his mom didn’t mention it. A week or so later the picture was back on the wall and that boy didn’t dream of tossing the baseball against the couch again. 

While the young boy in this tale is indeed me, based on conversations I’ve had with many others, it’s a lot of them too. 

Maybe your mom didn’t make you eat beets, or let you pick out the shoes that were too expensive, or made a special effort at your birthday. Or maybe she was the gentle buffer between strong-headed you and your dad or your siblings. 

However she did it, a lot of us had a mom who had a big impact on our lives from doing little things. And perhaps bigger things like demonstrating what grace and unconditional love are. 

I’d say that’s worth at least one national holiday. 

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thanks for everything you’ve done to frame my life. And that picture.