Mom

Of all the practically thankless jobs, being a Mom has to rank near the top.  Almost thankless because at least on this one day of the year, most Moms get some measure of thanks — even if only from a gifted writer at Hallmark. 

Given the fact that for 18 years (and often longer) they rig it so they always draw the short straw and stay up later, sacrifice more, sleep less, work harder, and worry more so that a little person can start out on a good footing, Moms deserve better than that.  The kicker is that kids don’t come with guarantees, so all that work is potentially to raise a juvenile delinquent, mass murderer, or (worst of all) a self-absorbed ingrate who forgets the endless sacrifices that made life possible in the first place.  God had choice words for such people, but I can’t say them in polite company.

This is my Mom, making sure that I was raised to hear about God and His Son, Jesus.  Not just by taking me to a revival when I was 5 months old (I’m told I was less than attentive when the sermon went beyond three points and a poem), but by modeling the complete and unconditional love of God everyday of my life.  Now that’s a sermon people pay attention to.  That’s what changes lives.

There’s a reason Steve and I are smiling so big.  We were two boys who had every reason to thank God for the Mom we got, and now most days are spent trying to live up to her example of godliness and care for others.  On this Mother’s Day, I don’t want Hallmark to do my work for me. 

Thank you, Mom, for being God’s hands–serving, life-saving, heart-shaping hands–in my life.  I am forever grateful and will always be in your debt.  At age 54 I’m still smiling when I think of you.  You’re the best.