To mothers and all that they do for us.

Byline: Bob Welch / The Register-Guard

Wednesday night, over dinner, a friend shared a sad story. It was about a mother who never believed my friend was good enough.

"When my mother died," she said, "I mourned differently - for what never was between us."

On this Mother's Day, I grieve for them both: for a daughter who wanted so little - basic approval - and for a mother whose selfishness cost her so much - a relationship with her own flesh and blood. And I honor those mothers who have chosen more wisely and given more freely.

So here's to mothers who cherish their children, despite the inevitable pain that parenting asks.

Here's to mothers who grew up amid a depression and war, and kept families together when fathers were off to the South Pacific or Italy or France.

Here's to mothers whose love for their children transcended the generation gap of the '60s, who realized a relationship was more important than the length of a son's hair.

Here's to mothers who pushed baby carriages before they had 16 wheels, Nicro-Active shock absorbers and built-in CD players.

And here's to the sudden outbreak of twentysomething moms whose knee-high kids infuse me with hope because of their innocence and unbridled enthusiasm for life.

Here's to mothers, like mine, who cheer loudly at track meets, even when their children finish last.

Here's to mothers, like my wife, who love their kids enough to say yes to six-bag marshmallow fights and no to more dangerous choices.

And to all the mothers who have never been thanked for washing soccer uniforms - five times a week.

Here's to the mothers who drive cars with those "My child is an honor student ..." bumper stickers. Sure, the stickers are cheesy, but when I read about a child abuse case, I think: The world could use more parents who are proud of their kids.

Here's to the mothers of children who have grown up and been accorded worldwide respect. In Corvallis, Alison Wieman drives a car with a bumper sticker that reads, "My child won the Nobel Prize for Physics" - and it's true. Carl Wieman, Corvallis High Class of '69, won the honor in 2001.

And here's to the mothers of more obscure children whose value is no less than anyone else's. My favorite letter of 2003 was from Leila Snow, whose son, Loren, made my Graduation-Name All-Star Team (All-Weather). She wrote about 500 words on what a cool kid he was. And a year later tells me he still is, inasmuch as he planned to take her to Studio One today for French toast.

Here's to single moms who step to the plate with a strike against them but still swing for the fences; foster moms who willingly take on the pressure of pinch-hitting; and grandmothers who, in essence, become mothers again to bring up the children their sons and daughters can't or won't.

Here's to mothers who must work to make ends meet - and those gutsy enough to stay home with their kids amid a culture that frowns on it.

Here's to the mothers of prodigals whose kids are still on the run. And mothers whose children are still off to war.

Here's to mothers who have lost children, some through miscarriages, some through accidents, some through disease. I know a handful of women who qualify, and they amaze me with their resiliency, tear-stained though it may be.

Here's to a young woman I know who has been a mom now for less than a week - and already watched her daughter sent off in an ambulance to Portland. (Happy ending, though!)

And, finally, here's to mothers like my dinner friend, who, though not blessed with wonderful role models, have become as much themselves.

The flower-bedecked teapot arrived from one of her sons Thursday. "Thanks for being my Mom," the card said. "God blessed me with a good one."

Bob Welch can be reached at 338-2354 or at [e-mail].