In a case of poignant irony, the mother of Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis, ultimately found her creation appalling.

What she envisioned as a sentimental day to honor the spirit of motherhood quickly evolved - or devolved - into commercialization, even at the turn of the 20th century.

One hundred years after the first official Mother's Day service at a Methodist church in Grafton, W.Va., Mother's Day is the peak day for long-distance phone calls.

Actually, Jarvis might have applauded that statistic: She felt people should reach out and touch someone.

She would be less likely to appreciate that American consumers are expected to spend $15.8 billion this Mother's Day, according to the National Retail Federation.

She definitely wouldn't want to know that it's the second highest gift-giving holiday (behind Christmas), the second highest dining-out day (behind birthdays) and the third highest card-sending holiday (behind Christmas and Valentine's Day).

And she would be positively dismayed to discover that according to Hallmark, 155 million Mother's Day cards will be exchanged this year.

"I wanted it to be a day of sentiment, not profit," Jarvis said. Greeting cards, she said, were a poor excuse for letters people were too lazy to write.

She seems to have had even less patience with florists, who apparently jumped on the new holiday with alacrity.

"What will you do," Jarvis once wrote, "to route charlatans, bandits, pirates, racketeers, kidnappers and other termites that would undermine with their greed one of the finest, noblest and truest movements and celebrations?"

Her own mother, a Culpeper County native, inspired Jarvis to think of a national holiday.

Ann Maria Reeves, who married Granville Jarvis after moving to West Virginia, organized a series of Mothers' Day Work Clubs to help improve health and sanitation in several small towns. The clubs also offered relief to Union and Confederate soldiers during the Civil War.

In 1865, she organized a Mothers' Friendship Day, which was observed for several years, and she taught Sunday school at Andrews Methodist Church in Grafton, W.Va., for 20 years.

In the meantime, Anna Jarvis, after attending Mary Baldwin College, had moved to Philadelphia. Her mother joined her there after Granville Jarvis died in 1902.

Three years later, Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis died. Two years after that, in 1907, it occurred to Anna Jarvis that a Mother's Day - to honor all mothers - was a grand idea.

A suggestion that the Grafton church commemorate her mother resulted in that first simple service in 1908.

In 1914, the second Sunday in May was designated as Mother's Day by President Woodrow Wilson.

Sadly for Jarvis, commercialization began almost immediately. A trade journal, Florists' Review, was so bold as to print, "This was a holiday that could be exploited."

Jarvis fought back, even to the point of being arrested at least once for public demonstrations against organizations that didn't hold Mother's Day dear.

"The press said she was bitter and crazy," said Cindi Mason. "I tend to think of her as somewhat feisty.

"Mother's Day became her child, her intellectual property. She didn't want it to be exploited, but there was very little she could do."

Mason is program coordinator for the International Mother's Day Shrine, which is housed in what eventually became known as Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church . . . the church where Jarvis' mother taught Sunday school.

Now the building is the site of an annual Mother's Day service, weddings, community events and exhibits about motherhood.

With all Jarvis' efforts to preserve the original spirit of the holiday, Mason said, there is no documentation to suggest that she solicited donations - even to help her fight exploitation.

"A lot of people ask if she would approve the methods we use now," Mason said. "I think she would be pleased that [Mother's Day] has the meaning to us that it had then."

Laughing, she adds, "When we were creating the Web site (www.mothersdayshrine.com), I said, 'You know, Anna is probably spinning.'"

Legend has it that Anna Jarvis - penniless, childless and blind - was buried next to her mother. That last bit is true, Mason said. Jarvis and her mother are buried in the same Pennsylvania cemetery.

Jarvis was poor and was sent to a sanitarium before she died in 1948. But as Mason points out, the facility could have been nothing more than a convalescent home. And because Jarvis also cared for a sister who was blind, it's unclear whether she also had lost her sight.

Either way, the shrine continues to preserve and honor Jarvis' vision for Mother's Day.

"It's such a hidden treasure," said Mason. "I hate to liken it to Groundhog Day . . . but you kind of observe [Mother's Day] every year without knowing how it got started."

Today, a special centennial program will include West Virginia Gov. Joe Manchin III as keynote speaker.

As each woman exits the building, she will be given a white carnation, Jarvis' symbol for motherhood. But, Mason said, don't expect a pink or red flower if your mother is dead. That more contemporary tradition, she said, was the invention of a clever florist.

"Anna Jarvis never intended the symbol of Mother's Day to be a badge of mourning."
Contact Cynthia McMullen at (804) 6496361 or cmcmullen@timesdispatch.com.