She’s really neat—my mom. She is talented, patient, caring, and kind. She is not easily angered—in fact, she’s hardly ever angered, and only seldom frustrated or irritated. She is diligent, industrious, and rarely rests. She cooks well, teaches well, listens well, and loves well. I know this by experience, for I ate three meals a day for twenty years at her table, learned to read and write from her tutelage, spent many hours talking her ears off myself and lots of others seeing her share the concerns of others on the phone, in the living room, even at the grocery store. (Somehow her face must say, “Tell me your problems,” for countless people have done so and have been helped by her counsel and care.) My mom has more mercy than her three children combined and is kind to a fault.
My mom could never be a spy because she is a dreadful liar
and can hardly bring herself to tell untruths even when they are shrouding a
surprise. (Even then, you can see
straight through her duplicity, but such purity of heart is a beautiful
thing.) However, though she was a home
economics teacher, then missionary, then amazing mom/church leader/Bible study
teacher/best every Friday PTO hot dog server ever, closely watching her
speedometer on Sunday mornings would inform you that a career as a race car
driver is not totally out of the question—though she has no trail of speeding
tickets to back up this premise for what policeman can bring himself to write
up such an honest face??
Throughout the decades of my life, my mom has calmed me
when I was scared, encouraged me when I was down, cheered for me when I tried
and succeeded or tried and failed, helped me with my problems (from personal
dilemmas to a soup that’s too salty), and shared the tears of my broken
heart. She always said that my siblings
and I belonged to God who had given us to her as a trust, and she would do all
she could to support God’s plans for our lives.
This belief was put to the test many times as she watched us board
planes, trains, and automobiles to various destinations around the continent
and globe on mission trips and other exciting adventures. Her eyes would fill with tears as she waved
goodbye and sparkle with joy when her strong hug heralded our safe return.
Though she is good at many things, my mom is best at
loving—loving God, loving our dad, and loving us. Her real-life relationship with Jesus and her
close friendship with Him never left room for me to wonder if all this
“God-stuff” might not be true. My
parent’s lives are the authentication of God’s all mighty presence and His
power. She adores my father and has
showered him with love and respect for over half a century, and she has
selflessly and unconditionally loved her kids.
Heaven only knows the many hours of prayer she has lifted on our behalf,
and without a doubt, none of us would be who or where we are today had she not
been constantly faithful to God and our family.
Every time I eat fried chicken I think of my mom and how
she always took two pieces—the neck and the back. (Some of you didn’t even know those were
parts of the bird for the Colonel does not include them in his 8 or 10 piece
buckets, but when you are from the South and you actually cut up and cook the chicken
yourself, those pieces end up on the platter—as well as the pulley bone, but
that’s for another time!) When we would
vainly attempt to get her to take a more meaty piece, she always replied that
those were her favorites, but now that I’m a mom, I know better. And I know the truth—she really wasn’t lying,
for any sacrifice she made to give the best to those she loved the best made
even a bony and barely-there cut of meat the one she desired the most.
I realize I am incredibly blessed to have shared so many
years and so many wonderful times with my mom.
I know that we will spend forever together in heaven, and for that I am
unexplainably grateful, but while we are still here on earth, I plan on making
the most of every day—especially this Mother’s Day. I think we’ll have fried chicken, and I think
I’ll be the one who picks out her piece!
I love you, Mother!!
Lots!
No comments:
Post a Comment