Today Mothers are celebrated around the world.  I’ve seen many posts and thoughts today, shared to honor many wonderful women.  Often reflections and memories, many to acknowledge a learned appreciation gained through the passing of time and acquired child-raising experience.

Many stories celebrating the many years shared.  But some paying sweet homage when the story ended much too soon.

But, I’ve also seen another story today.  While so many are celebrating their mothers, some sadly remember mothers who weren’t very motherly.  This day seems to hit a raw nerve and brings up a lot of stuff.

What makes us good or bad?

I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately.  And, I’ve come up with no perfect answer; it kind of shifts from day to day.  For me, the “good” or “bad” label doesn’t work in the first place.  I believe we’re each doing our best in each moment: to survive, feel safe, and not hurt or suffer.  What we believe, what we’ve experienced, and who and what we have in our environment affect our feelings of survival, safety, and suffering.

I believe we each are doing our best.

I know my best has at times hurt myself and others, and made friends and family sad, mad, frustrated, or concerned.  Likewise, people often do things that I cannot understand.

For me, here’s the Bottom Line: I am not perfect.  I try to get it right, and try to make people happy, and satisfy myself and others.  I consider that “doing my best.”  But, I am imperfect.  And, my mom loves me anyway.  I am fortunate.  And, for this I am grateful!

Here’s a little secret–My Mom’s imperfect, too.  Of course!  Isn’t that great?  Maybe we both love each other because we’re both imperfect, yet keep “doing our best.”