"A mother's hands are never still," someone once told me. I didn't know how true it was until I had my own children and stayed home to raise them. The ring is a reminder of my mother's experience, raising five children while moving every year or two as a Navy wife. Even though she had none of the modern conveniences I take for granted, she never looked back at her mothering years as an overwhelming trial. I think she expected it to be hard work and not always fun but worth it. My mother's hands are still now, and I wear her ring.

Since my mom died last year, I've been pondering the legacy she left me as a mother. We were very different. Growing up, I had nothing but criticism for the way she raised us. I felt that she was distant, not warm enough, too critical and too controlling. Mom seemed to love the idea of children but the reality was a little more than she could handle, once we outgrew the baby stage. 

My adult appreciation of her began with the preparations for my wedding. At our church's premarital retreat, my husband and I had to talk about our families. We were asked to identify the qualities we admired in our parents. Thinking about Mom, I really was stumped. After some honest reflection, I realized that her stubbornness, independence and self-sufficiency, which made life with her so difficult sometimes, were what I valued most about her. And now I can see how important those qualities are in an at-home mother. When I arrive at decisions for my children or myself that aren't the most popular, even among my support group, I call up the image of her and I find it easier to be strong.

I have also come to appreciate the simple fact that she was there all those years when we needed her. Of course, I didn't see it that way at the time. When I was growing up, I often wished she had had a career, so she could give me better advice on choosing a profession of my own. Even while she celebrated the aspirations and achievements of her three daughters, she always showed us by her example that she thought raising her own children was the most important work in the world.

Yes, we did have time to find our common ground; I don't have that to regret. As my own family grew, I saw more similarities between us and the differences seemed to matter less. I told my mother that I'd found myself saying or doing something with my children that came directly from her.

The ring moves on my hand as I write this. It really is too big for me; the stones slide around to hang downward and I have to turn them to face up again. We are the jewels in her crown, my brothers and sisters and I--even with our differences, and there are many. The stones on my mother's ring are colors we would not have chosen to complement each other, yet they come together to create a unique pattern as individual as the woman for whom it was made. Look now, Mom, and see how we shine for you. How we still shine.

Elizabeth Wiegard (thirty-eight) and husband José (thirty-eight) live in Xxxxxxxxx, Xxxxx, with Desmond (five) and Cary (three). Elizabeth inherited her mother's passions for reading, writing, gardening, classical music and baseball. She also loves sharing a laugh or some news with friends via e-mail after her boys have gone to sleep.