The forgotten mom

I love the mothers day connect outreach programs and the concept that they want to bring about. As moms we need strong support groups and networks to assist in the often daunting task of parenting. 

I remember being a single teen mom of 17 with an alcoholic mother , scared out of my mind that I would somehow parent my precious baby girl wrong. My misguided often trial by error (and self education via every book in the library ) parenting fails still managed to raise a well balanced strong willed young lady (and a few more after her 😄).

But, for others it isn’t always the case. …

Some mother’s never have that support. Others battle PND, depression and other hardships alone and unguided.

In 2015 , I had the privilege to help a still starting group of volunteers headed by Kerry Hoffman, called Souper Troopers. They spent a weekend a month making and distributing soup to the homeless.  I’d watch as the wonen approached with a sadness deep within me… these were someone’s mothers,  how had they ended up on the streets? 

The story’s vary, most speak of hardship,  loneliness and lack of choices or support. Others didn’t know better or tried to escape an evil worse than being defenceless and grasping daily for basic needs. 

Those with children, often in acts of love, sent them to be cared for , sparing them the agony of not knowing where their next meal would come from. Others had their children  removed from them and had given up hope, not caring where they landed, trudging through one struggling day after another. A few chose  to keep their babies with them.

This year , for mother’s day I pledged 300 biscuits, a small gesture to brighten mother’s day for those forgotten moms, to the Souper Troopers mother’s  day lunch.

I enlisted the help of my two favourite bakers, kiki and monkey and set them the task to complete.

They woke early Saturday morning and with pjs still on set to work neatly cutting the biscuits into shoes, hearts and flowers. Monkey added chocolate to his biscuit mix because after all moms love chocolate. Several hours later they had completed their task.

Sunday afternoon, papa bear and I loaded the 3 youngest bears into the car and we drove down to the service dining rooms a shelter for  the homeless in town. As we approached several homeless men lay on the ground  and others blocked the path to the door. I saw the look of horror on monkeys face,  this was certainly out of his comfort zone and his look to me said ‘is this safe?’

I stepped out with our offering in hand, and greeted an elderly gentleman. His broad smile dispelling any fear in monkey, as he looked at the large box and directed us to where we needed to be to leave our contribution towards their mother’s day celebration. 

I can only hope that with our small gesture one mom rembered how special she was and that someone cared.  I also hope that I have reminded my children that sometimes the gifts of our time and love that we give others are of the most important gifts. 


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