As I write this, it is Mother's Day. Our pastor's custom on this day is to invite one (and only one) member of the congregation to volunteer a tribute from the lectern to his or her mother. I have always felt I owed this to my mother, and have some vague guilt about not hopping up to speak during the interval between the invitation and the moment when someone else seizes the day. But in that interval I also find myself perplexed to find nothing more to say, really, than "She was a good mother," for that to my mind is a very close to perfect summa . . .