If, as a boy you ran and played in the yard, and you fell, sliding across a hidden rock, and cut and bruised your leg hard enough for tears to well up on your cheeks, and you ran to your mother for a sympathetic hug and a band-aid, then you have discovered undying love.

If, as a girl you rummaged through a closet to find dresses and shoes, and then discovered make-up on the dresser, and set about to make yourself beautiful like a movie star, and your mother laughed and took photographs to share with her sisters, then you have become her joy.

If, as an adult, she lay on a bed and you clutched her weak hand and whispered into her ear, saying goodbye for one last time with a machine nearby counting off the final few beats of her heart, then you have found true sorrow.

And if, as a child on a cold day, you slipped from the security of your covers and tiptoed cautiously across a wooden floor, and if you then came to the kitchen and a hot stove, and you found your mother there and if she offered you a cup of chocolate and said, &#8220come by the heater baby. Get warm,” then you, my friend, are in heaven.

A son is said to own his father when he first grasps the man's thumb in his tiny hand.

But it is the mother who owns both son and daughter.

The most important Man in the history of the world hung from a cross of wood and beseeched one of the disciples to care for His mother.

Happy Mother's Day.

– Kevin Pearcey