Because I wanted to write something as meaningful and heartfelt as “My father’s Orange from a couple of years ago
But can’t find the right words—sorry about that, Ma.
Prayer on Mother’s Day
by Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson
Nobody makes something from nothing,
not even God.
But God molds the tohu va-vohu,
the chaos swirling in the deep,
and — miraculous to say! — life emerges.
Life is simple at first,
then complex. Reflexive at first,
then conscious. Life becomes.
It takes all that love,
all that power,
all that guidance,
but life does emerge, waddle, and walk.
Mother, my own creator:
You’ve always been able to mold the deep chaos
and produce life.
Cradling the babies you produced,
powerful love that made a world for your children,
deep wisdom creating a path to walk, a portal to enter.
You gave me life.
You nurtured life.
You instructed, taught, disciplined
Latest mask of the divine,
you taught me I could trust,
showed me I’d be lifted when I cried out,
gave me faith in faith itself.
How can I bless you when you are the very blessing of my blessing?
My default parenting is yours,
endless fountain of love.