Mother

As I sit to write this post, Mother's Day is fast approaching. It's kind of a bitter-sweet day for me, and for many others whose mothers are no longer with us. I can hardly believe this next September will mark fifteen years since my mom graduated to heaven. I still miss her. Taking the place again this year of time spent together eating out at Blanco Cafe or hitting up our favorite thrift store will be placing fresh flowers Sunday at the cemetery.

For me, Mother's Day is a day for remembering. It's a day to reflect on all the wonderful times I had with my mom, a day to play re-runs in my head of all the laughter and conversations and good times we had together. It's also a day to give thanks to the Lord for the blessing of a godly mother.

My mom and dad waited six years for me. Having had polio as a teenager, my mother wasn't sure she could ever get pregnant or carry a baby to term if she did, but, in September of 1960, their wait was over. I entered the world little (4 lbs. 1/2 oz.) but mighty.

Being an only, you might think my parents spoiled me. Actually, I think the opposite was true. Because I was an only, they took great care to make sure that didn't happen. Oh, I had all the obvious advantages of being an only like having a room to myself, not having to compete for my parent's attention, and definitely never having any of my band concerts usurped by a sister's piano recital or a brother's ballgame. But let me tell you, being an only isn't all it's cracked up to be. It has its disadvantages too.

Attention was on me... squarely on me... all the time.

My mom, in particular, knew me. She knew me well. She knew if my books were dropped unceremoniously on the dining room table when I came in the door, it had been a bad day at school. She knew the best way to encourage heart-to-heart talks between us was to go for a long drive somewhere. She knew I had friend troubles when I was quiet and that I was overly chatty when there was a new boy I liked. It wasn't that my mom had a sixth sense that made her so receptive. It was simply that she paid attention to me. She invested the time it took to really understand me.

My mom was also a good listener. One thing she taught me that I'll never forget is this: when your kids want to talk to you, make the time to listen. She said it almost never comes at an opportune moment, but it's so important to take that time when it presents itself, because when the moment is gone... it's sometimes gone for good.

She lived this principle out with me more times that I'm sure she cared to. I'd always want to "visit" when I came home from a party or a date to tell her how it went. The news could never wait til morning! She'd get out of bed, set a pot of water to boil on the stove for tea, and settle in for a long evening.

Moms also seem to have the best words at the best times whether it be encouragement, priase, or balm for a hurting heart. I've kept a stash of my mother's notes and cards which meant the most to me. I pull them out whenever I find myself really missing her. When I read them, I can almost hear her voice pumping me up, reassuring me still.

My mother was the first person to teach me about Jesus. I remember her telling me about a time as a toddler that I had to have my stomach pumped. I had innocently mistaken some bug poison on my grandmother's backporch for bubblegum. They weren't sure I had ingested any, but to be safe I had to go to the hospital to have the procedure done. Mom said I was crying so hard when it was over I couldn't catch my breath, but on the wall of the Santa Rosa was a picture. I pointed to it and said, "J-j-j... Jesus." It meant a great deal to her that I knew Him at a tender age.

My mother also prayed for me. Wow, what a blessing that was! I'm sure I never knew how much intercession was going on on my behalf, but I feel certain her prayers kept me from harm and helped me in more ways than I can tell.

I was blessed to have my mother for as many years as I did. She was a powerful influence in my life. She modeled for me an example of a godly life. That doesn't mean her example was perfect, because she wasn't perfect and neither am I. What she modeled was a true example, one that tries its best and when it fails, which it inevitably does, turns to the One who IS perfect for forgiveness, grace, and a second, third, or fourth chance to do better.

Mothers are special blessings. Their love follows us -as do their prayers- for as long as they live. We are bound together, tethered by heartstrings that bridge the gap between space and time. Through their nurturing, their instruction, and their discipling mothers shape the destiny of their children and the future of the world.

If you are blessed to still have your mom with you, tell her. Let her know how much she means to you. Spend some time with her. Drink it in. Though there are some in this world who may love us as much, we would be hard-pressed to find any who love us more than our precious mothers.

How thankful I am for my own. My mother, my friend, my blessing.