After mothering me for thirty years, my mom stood in the kitchen of my home and announced these words, "I was the world's worst mother, and I am so sorry." She then proceeded to apologize for all the things that she did wrong in raising me. I realized that she was filled with guilt about the strict rules of her child-raising years, causing me to miss many school dances. She was mortified that she and my father were too poor to afford my high school ring. She was ashamed of herself for punishments that lasted for weeks. She was sad that she tried to choose my friends. My mother went on and on about her mistakes and regrets as tears of pain streamed down her face.

Right at that moment my mom looked so beautiful. I wondered why my entire family, including me, took her for granted. How do you tell your mother all that she is to you? I wanted to tell her that the punishments and strict rules of my childhood have a small spot in my memory in comparison to my recollections of the nights she let me stay up late and bake cookies with her. I kept silent instead of telling her how much it meant that she scraped together the money for my wedding shoes and matching purse. I couldn't swallow the lump in my throat so I could explain all of the millions of ways she makes me feel so special. I should have told my mother, on that day, that of all the people in my life, no one has ever loved me in the unconditional way that she does.

Four years have gone by since the day I didn't tell my mother that her mistakes were tiny molehills, and her love and understanding were big beautiful mountains in my life. But I'm telling her now. Thank you, Mom, and thank you, God, for the world's worst mother.

"I thank God when I call to remembrance the genuine faith that is in you, which dwelt first in your mother. "

-  II Timothy 1:3,5

  At this season of the year, our thoughts turn to the one who gave us birth. Like so many modern customs and practices, "Mother's Day" which is celebrated the second Sunday in May, dates back to a festival derived from the custom of mother worship in ancient Greece. With the coming of Christianity, it soon became a worship of the mother church as a religious, holy day during Lent, when children brought special gifts to their mothers. In the US, official recognition of Mother's Day as given by Congress on May 8, 1914. The white carnation, or rose, signifying sweetness, purity and endurance, was adopted as the emblem.

  Mother's Day is here and though we attach no spiritual significance to it, it is well that we be reminded of the blessings of godly motherhood. This is a day of celebration of love and appreciation for Mothers. Today let us give thanks for our own Mothers and also for those people who have nurtured us and influenced our lives in positive ways.

  Throughout history, the motherly rose is one of honor and respect, so we extend a special blessing to these honored individuals, for they have helped nourish and mold our lives through their loving support and gentle encouragement. The have inspired and guided us to express our God-given talents and abilities.

  How do people know that you are a Mother and wise disciple of Jesus? Do you pray before meals, attend church regularly, wear a cross, carry a Bible? These may be appropriate ways to express faith, but Jesus tells His disciples that there is another crucial distinguishing mark of a true follower of Jesus: "By this everyone will know that you are My disciples, if you love one another." John 13:34,35.

~~~

  The things in my life that are worthy, were born in my mother's breast;

and breathed into mine by the fragrance of her life by Jesus blest.

~~~

Our thanks, O God, for mothers who show, by word and deed,

commitment to Your will and plan, and Your commandments heed.

     Many say their most painful moments are saying good-bye to those they love.  After watching Cheryl, my daughter-in-law, through the six long months her mother suffered towards death, I think the most painful moments can be in the waiting to say good-bye.
     Cheryl made the two-hour trip over and over to be with her mother.  They spent the long afternoons praying, soothing, comforting, and retelling their shared memories.
     As her mother's pain intensified and more medication was needed to ease her into sedation, Cheryl sat for hours of silent vigil by her mother's bed.
     Each time she kissed her mother before leaving, her mother would tear up and say, "I'm sorry you drove so far and sat for so long and I didn't even wake up to talk with you."
     Cheryl would tell her not to worry, it didn't matter, still her mother felt she had let her down and apologized at each good-bye until the day Cheryl found a way to give her mother the same reassurance her mother had given to her so many times.
     "Mom, do you remember when I made the high school basketball team?"  Cheryl's mother nodded.  "You'd drive so far and sit for so long and I never even left the bench to play.  You waited for me after every game and each time I felt bad and apologized to you for wasting your time."  Cheryl gently took her mother's hand.
     "Do you remember what you would say to me?"
     "I would say I didn't come to see you play, I came to see you."
     "And you meant those words, didn't you."
     "Yes, I really did."
     "Well, now I say the same words to you.  I didn't come to see you talk, I came to see you."
     Her mother understood and smiled as she floated back into sleep.
     Their afternoons together passed quietly into days, weeks, and months.  Their love filled the spaces between their words.  To the last day they ministered to each other in the stillness, love given and received just by seeing each other.
     A love so strong that, even in this deepened silence that followed their last good-bye, Cheryl can still hear her mother's love.