Is there a holiday or observance more fraught with
emotion than Mothers’ Day? It’s natural to have strong feelings about Mom,
whether those feelings are warm and loving, resentful and angry, or filled with
contradictions. We all have mothers, just by virtue of being human, and I think
it’s safe to say that usually, we love our mothers.
When I think of my own mother, I feel a mixture of
emotions: joy for the things I learned from her and the love she always gave
me; sorrow that she isn’t still here on Earth to offer more advice and love;
and regret for the questions I never asked and the insensitivity I know I
showed at times.
I remember long-ago Mothers’ Days when I was a child in
the hills of West Virginia. It used to be tradition to wear flowers for
Mothers’ Day—red or pink if one’s mother were still living and white if not.
Even in that celebratory tradition, there was a touch of sadness for all the
white flowers in the room.
And think of the many cards we all made under the
guidance of well-meaning teachers. What mom can just throw away her child’s
handprint pressed into a piece of clay or a bouquet of flowers printed on
paper, no matter how poorly colored? (Maybe you can, and maybe someday I
can—but not yet, and my kids are in their forties!)
Scripture is full of examples of mothers—good and bad,
but mostly good, I guess. There is, of course, the faith of Jochebed, the perseverance
of Naomi, the obedience of Jesus’s mother, Mary, and others. We also have in
our personal lives many good examples to follow. If that’s your own mother, you
are blessed. If it isn’t, thank God for putting you in a community where you
can see faithfulness, perseverance, and obedience lived out in the women around you.
For me, this week has been emotional for more reasons
than Mothers' Day. A long-time neighbor pulled out of her driveway early Friday
morning to move across the country. While we didn’t spend every day together,
she had been next door to me for so long, she felt like part of home. She
and I collected one another’s mail when necessary, stood in the road and
chatted about gardening and neighborhood doings. I knew where her extra key
was, and she could find ours if she needed to. I miss her. Then later on
Friday, we had Senior Chapel at GBA—always a time of mixed joy and sadness. It’s
the plight of teachers to learn to love young people and then tell them goodbye—over
and over. Kind of like a mother.
Of course, I have my own children who love me so well and
give me reason to be proud. But I don’t believe it’s possible to think we’ve done
everything right, and when children choose things we don’t necessarily approve
of, questions and lurking guilt threaten to spoil the mood of the most pleasant
times.
Here is my comfort this week: God is bigger than my
mistakes. He can work even when I can’t see it. His ways are not my ways, and
all his ways are good. He knows what I am going to say before I say it. Nothing
takes him by surprise. There is no place I can go—or my friends or students or
children can go—to get away from God. (Numbers 23, Isaiah 55, Psalm 139, and
others).
So happy day, everyone, whether you are a mom or want to
celebrate your mom. Let’s all rest in God’s faithfulness.
--Sherry Poff
