Saturday, May 07, 2016
Mothering
I slipped into the house, not particularly wanting to be
noticed. None of my four siblings were
there, but I heard a familiar voice speaking earnestly to someone. It was unmistakably, the voice of my
mother. She was having a conversation that
would change my life forever. I do not remember the exact words she spoke, but
the message, tone, and passion causes that experience to reverberate in my soul
forty years later. My mom was talking
to her Counselor. She spoke with Him
daily and at length. It is probably the
single most important key to her being such a wonderful mother.
I was in junior high and experimenting with something
that almost everyone else my age seemed to be doing - smoking. It was the early 70s and I had purchased a
pack of cigarettes from the service station, ironically, saying they were for
my mom. I stashed them in our shed so I
could sneak one from time to time.
Foolish as I was, I thought I could hide the smell by sucking some
breath mints and airing out my clothes before entering the house. That day I was about to confirm the suspicion
that my mom was on to me.
To be honest, I had been avoiding my loving mother,
because I feared that if she had discovered my vice she would be disappointed
in me, and that she may have some stiff punishment awaiting me. My worries had been stoked the day before when
my brother had gleefully informed me that he had ratted me out. But the other shoe had not yet dropped, so
her current conversation was of great interest to me.
As I entered the room next to hers I could hear her words
more distinctly. She was half talking
and half crying as she begged for help.
She was asking for wisdom. She
was wanting her Counselor to talk to me and help me realize that what I was
doing was detrimental to my own health and happiness. She knew. She cared. I suddenly understood that it wasn’t about her
rules or her being in control - it was all about my best interest. No nagging… just loving… mothering.
I was eavesdropping on a conversation that was like so
many others; this was how my mother got her strength and
the massive doses of love necessary to mothering 3 teens and a second
grader. She was praying. God heard her prayer and allowed that very prayer
to speak directly to my heart. It landed hard.
She never mentioned the cigarettes to me. I got rid of
them. I may have tried one or two in the
coming years, but that prayer for my benefit always won the day. Not only had my mother taught me the power of
prayer, but she had shown me that being a mom is biological, but mothering
requires selflessness and love and God’s help.
Later I would see those same qualities in the woman I married.
A woman who forfeited a career and a great deal of spending money so she could
home-school her only son. It was a labor
of love. It was true mothering. She too
learned to have daily conversations with her Counselor. Nothing is more selfless and beautiful. Maybe
that is why many report that a dying soldiers’ last word is often “Mother” -
testifying of the incredible power of mothering.
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