As children, we admire our teachers. We learn the lessons they teach and eagerly yearn to please them and meet their standards.

We idolize our fathers, placing them firmly on pedestals that allow them to transcend mortality.

But there is something about our mothers – with their unconditional love, their never-ending encouragement, and their perpetual kissing of “boo-boos,” – that gets lost in the shuffle.

Mothers are infinite wells of absolutely everything. They flow faithfully, they give selflessly.

And we return to them endlessly with our arms outstretched, waiting in expectancy for them to refill our needy hands and hearts with more of their love and help and kindness.

Mothers sacrifice endlessly.

They sacrifice their interests. They sacrifice their strength.

They sacrifice their time so they can cheer us on in the bleachers as we play soccer (or, in my case, attempt to play).

They give their bodies over to the harsh task of childbirth.

They wince and grimace as they wait patiently while we take our sweet time growing and developing inside of them.

They give themselves over as vessels of nature.

They sacrifice their money to pay for classes that we’ll fail and cars that we’ll wreck.

They are the source of everything.

Yet, we never seem to replenish the source, or acknowledge it, or appreciate it.

Mothers are the most selfless, generous, tolerant people you’ll ever know.

And we are all guilty of discounting their efforts.

We disregard their sacrifices, telling them they didn’t care enough or give enough or love enough.

We reduce their love and support and encouragement.

We convince ourselves that they are our mothers and, thus, it is their job.

But it is no one’s job to love. No money is given in exchange for love.

There is no specific compensation for love given.

It is not an occupation for which mothers have applied and, thus, have accepted the terms.

It is a choice. A brave choice.

It is a choice that selfless women make to give the most important gift, knowing that they must expect nothing in return.

And more often than not, nothing is what they will receive.

For many of us, our mothers have been the most influential people in our lives, shaping and molding us from infancy into adulthood.

Creating us to be effective, productive members of society, so one day, we may be paid for the work that we contribute to our communities.

But there is no payment for the love that they give to us.

Mothers are the people we appreciate the least and argue with the most.

But they have such tolerance that somehow, even when the love they give is unrequited, they dig deeper into their hearts and find even more love to give.

They love us when we are unlovable and give to us when we are undeserving.

They have more faith in us than we have in ourselves and they freely surrender to us every resource that should be reserved for their personal growth that we might grow instead.

It is no ordinary love. It is completely unmerited. There is nothing we have done to deserve it.

But we must remember that these women who bore us – who gave us life and love – they need love, too.

There is no method to measure a mother’s love. And so often its value is not realized until it is too late.

There are no words to describe it.

But if you have known it, there is no greater joy. And if you have not, there is no greater void.

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