"How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy we have in the presence of our God because of you?” 1 Thessalonians3:9
It happened when I was about nine or ten. I remember hearing a scream, a shriek, really. It was a sunny, calm day, with hardly a whisper of wind. While my parents were getting ready to take us on a trip into the city, my three younger siblings and I were outside, milling around and exploring. I was so engaged in observing a busy ant hill that I didn’t notice my younger sister and brothers climb into our VW Beetle. It was my mother’s shriek that caused me to turn and notice the little car in motion. Somehow they had managed to release the emergency brake and knock it out of gear. The driver’s side door was wide open and they were standing on the front seats, all trying to hold onto the steering wheel. The Beetle was silently picking up speed, rolling down the hill toward the woods. In a flash my mom came running out of the house. I was not only amazed at how fast she could run, but that she barely had any clothes on. No shoes, only under garments, nylons, and an unbuttoned shirt parachuting behind her, as she ran after the car. Like a superhero, one hand on the door, the other on the rounded roof, she acrobatically leapt sideways into the car and brought it to a stop. Her own safety (and modesty!) didn’t matter to her. Her singular mission was stopping the car and saving her babies. I stood in awe. My mom's adrenaline driven fingers quickly buttoned up her blouse, while she tearfully kissed each child that scrambled out of the car. Then, knowing they were okay, she promptly began to scold and herd them toward my dad, who was now approaching the car with a look of both disbelief and relief.
How amazing, brave, selfless, sacrificial, and beautiful, is God’s gift of motherhood. Sadly, there are exceptions, but generally speaking, mothers are rightly revered and respected. In fact, I read recently that Mother’s Day was the most important Sunday on the organized crime calendar. According to an FBI undercover agent by the name of Joe Pistone, the mafia often closed for business when Mother's Day arrived each May!
How can we not give thanks for this mysterious mix of a mother’s fearless, gentle love? At the same time, we want to be mindful of those who find this time of year difficult. Many quietly ache inside, mourning losses and unfulfilled longings. Whatever the situation, with grateful, compassionate hearts, may we celebrate motherhood, taking every opportunity, as well, to encourage and pray for all the special people in our lives.
Thanks for meandering along with me,