A TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER

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Mother’s, I believe are one of God’s most wonderful gifts to mankind.  In the beginning, according to the Bible, God put Adam to sleep and performed miracle surgery, when He formed a mother out of Adam’s rib.  The Bible says that Eve was the mother of all the living.

I thought about Eve.  Can you imagine her wonder, when first she held that tiny life in her arms and cradled him close?  What did she think when she looked into Cain’s tiny, red, wrinkled face and heard his indignant wails of protest?  Baby Cain was the first baby the world had ever seen, the first baby Eve had ever seen.  For Adam and Eve were created full grown.  They knew nothing of infancy or childhood.

How did Eve know what to with this minute being God had given into her care?  She had no Doctor Spock to depend upon, no pediatrician to call, or learned child psychologist, no Gerber’s, no canned formula, and horror of horrors, no Pampers.  She couldn’t even call Mama, for she had no Mama.  Yet, she knew how to take care of this child, for God had planted the knowing in the breast of this woman, the world’s first mother.

We could, all of us, call the names of other Biblical mothers or mothers well known down through the centuries, but finally, and always, we arrive at our own mother.

I’m thinking of my mother today.  I sometimes called her “Maggie Lou” just to tease her.  That was her name, but she hated it.  She often said she would rather be called “Doggie.”  When I felt especially tender toward her, I called her “Mommy Girl,” but when I was in trouble, I just called “Mama,” and she was there, because she recognized the need in my voice

Mama always seemed to know what I needed, and she did everything in her power to meet that need.

After two years in college working as much as possible, I had used up my meager savings.  That was in the days before government grants and loans, so there was no way I could return to school.  Mama had very little of this world’s goods, but she felt my disappointment.

One day less than a week before the opening of the new fall term, Mama disappeared for a few hours.  No one knew where she had gone, but when she returned, she put her arms around my neck, and looking at me through her tears, whispered, “Go pack your suitcases.  You’re going back to school.”

Mama had been to the bank.  She had no proper job description to put on a loan application.  The little money she had was earned by ironing, or sewing, or cleaning other people’s dirty houses.  She even chopped cotton.  She had no collateral to offer a bank, but on her good name alone, she had borrowed the few hundred dollars, that was obviously a few years ago, needed for my return to school.  Only God knows how difficult it was for her to repay that loan.  It is to her credit that my brother and I are both in ministry today.

Once during my years as a missionary in Europe, I was very ill and confined to bed.  One morning, as I lay there feeling discouraged, lonely, and alone, the phone rang, and across more than six thousand miles, I recognized my mother’s dear voice.  Ordinarily, during those years abroad, I did not tell my Mother when I was in need, for I didn’t want to worry her.  However, when I heard her voice that morning, I could not hold back the tears.

“Oh, Mama,” I cried.  “I am so sick.”

“I knew it,” she exclaimed.  “I knew there was something wrong.  That’s why I called.”  Mama always knew what I needed.  What healing came from her sweet words!

The day came when my Mama was old and frail and sick.  It was my turn to take care of her, but I never did it as well as she did.

Thirty Mother’s Days have come and gone since My Mother went home to be with the Lord.  This morning I picked up her picture, which sets on my dresser.

“Hi, Mommy Girl, I love you, and Mama, I’ll see you before long,” I said.

One of my greatest comforts is to know that Mama is in the presence of the Lord.  She is one of that great “Cloud of Witnesses,” who is watching my progress.  It gives me great joy to know that she approves of the way I am living and what I am doing.  She, too, awaits that glad reunion day.

Cherish your mother.  She’s one of a kind!

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MAMA!

 

REMEMBER, THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW!