On Wednesday, “Hassle-Free weekend” to me meant fewer ball games, a date with my husband, sleeping in and not cooking or shopping.  Now it means hugging all my kids more tightly, staying home and watching movies with the family and turning off the computer and iPhone.My friend’s 7 y/o son lost his battle with Cancer this week.  He told her no more treatments, said he needed to sleep, hugged her warmly and closed his eyes.  My heart still feels as though it will burst right through my chest as I try to imagine her sadness and pain.  It’s as if I am trying to somehow prepare myself in case it ever happened to me.  I wind up lost in my own sadness – for her and because I know I can never prepare.I started thinking of my friend and how her son’s death will mark Mother’s Day for her in the future.  And how much I want to tell her and all the mothers whose pain is magnified on Mother’s Day, how my heart aches for them.  I am reminded that I promised myself to use TravelingMom to help mothers who become social outcasts because of fistula, a treatable condition usually caused by obstructed labor that left unattended results in prolonged incontinence.  I honor Chantal, the mom I met from Rwanda who lost so many of her family members to genocide, who has adopted six more children and who travels thousands of miles to promote forgiveness.  And then I think of the moms who brought me those stories:  Jane (not her real name) who builds fistula hospitals in Ethiopia and educated me about the need and the many Women of Vision who have introduced me to the women of Rwanda, Ruth who founded Vacations for a Purpose, Lee, Nina, Andrea, PennyLesley and Sue.I am strengthened by their strength.  They are saving the world.  I want to meet them all.  Celebrate them all.  Honor them all.  And thank them all. This Earth Day, I celebrate Max and the Mothers on Earth.