Spring seems to have evolved into summer-like days, with temperatures growing warmer, and blossoming beauty everywhere.
The rains of May have spread a green patchwork quilt over our hills, a verdant lushness that covers meadows, ridges and hollers. Pilot Knob is a many-faceted jewel of varying shades of green, from the deep emerald of the maples to the olive shades of the budding white oaks. May is a fresh and growing month, saying good-bye to bold winter weather and welcoming the warmth of spring.
The dainty wild trilliums, with their deep purple, pale pink and pure white blossoms are mostly gone from the woodsy places now, to be replaced by masses of wild geraniums with their clusters of lavender flowers. The common fleabane spreads its small, aster-like flowers liberally in every wayside place.
One of the sweetest thrills of motherhood is to receive one of these wildflower bouquets, with stems too short to hold, clutched in a warm, grubby fist. Presented with an angelic smile, it is an offering that no florist could ever match. One spring, a small grandchild picked all of my blooming crocuses and proudly brought them to me. What could I do but smile and thank them effusively?
The crocuses and wildflowers come back year after year, always exactly the same, but the grandchildren have grown up and moved on to lives of their own. In fact, some of them have children of their own. Looking back now, it seems that we had our own children in our care such a short time. Was it only yesterday that I held my own babies and cuddled them? There is nothing to compare with the flood of emotion that comes when that tiny newborn is placed in your arms. Like many others, I never really appreciated my own mother until I became a mother myself.
Motherhood is a chronic condition that lasts a lifetime. It begins with the first faint symptoms of pregnancy, intensifies throughout the days of active mothering, but lasts until the end of her days. Many times it is a thankless job; a bone-weary, back-aching vocation. It is mingled tears and joy, pride and heartache. It is the most rewarding task in the world–and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Mothers teach you things that no one else can. From the time we are born, as long as they live, they are instructing and influencing our lives. They teach us to dress ourselves, blow our noses, tie our shoes, comb our hair and say “please” and “thank you.” They teach us how to share with others, answer when we are called, obey our parents, and do our assigned chores promptly. By word and example, the “Golden Rule” was ingrained in our minds.
Mom taught us girls how to make beds, pie crusts, and pickles. There were many lessons that we absorbed without being aware of it. We learned how to treat a husband with love and cherishing by the way that she treated Daddy. This advice would be scorned by the “liberated” wives of today, but it was based on the Bible teaching that states, “That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.” –Titus 2:4-5. Old fashioned advice it may be, but it will still work today.
Motherhood is a tremendous responsibility. Not only are we responsible for the physical well-being of our little ones, but for their moral and spiritual values as well. The influence of a mother, especially during the early, formative years, cannot be overestimated. It is there, at a mother’s knee, that the direction in life that a child takes is often made. We are failing our children unless we set a godly example ourselves, in teaching them to pray and trust God. Prayer is a condition that also lasts a lifetime. True mothering includes praying for our children as long as there is breath in us.
To be a mother, it takes the authority of an Army General, the understanding of Plato, the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job, the cunning of a fox, the stamina of a workhorse, and the love of a mother’s heart. A sense of humor is a necessity. Above all, it takes much prayer (and tears) and a complete dependence upon the Lord to lead and guide.
I read a fable long ago that has stuck with me. It involved a mother and a son, and the mother loved the son with the sort of love that I have been describing. The son fell in love with a beautiful girl, and he asked her what he could bring her to make her happy. The girl replied that she wanted his mother’s heart.
The son was so much in love with her that he never demurred, but hurried home and cut out his mother’s heart. As he was hurrying with the heart in his hands to take to his beloved, he tripped and fell. The mother’s heart spoke and said, “Oh, son, did you hurt yourself?”
We only get one chance at raising our children–before we realize what has happened, they are gone. I know it doesn’t seem that way when they are small and clinging to your legs while you are trying to keep up with the housework. It seems then that they will never be out from under your feet (we had six in school at one time,) but all too soon the nest was empty. This is just a figure of speech, as most of mine have built nests all around us!
Motherhood is worth every bit of it, especially when you find a letter from a middle-aged daughter such as this: “Mommy, it just feels like a few seconds, days or years that you were fixing my hair, cooking my breakfast and dressing me to go out. Now our roles are reversed. Today I dressed you, fixed your hair, tied your shoes and buttoned your coat. I proceeded to ask all the necessary questions, “Do you have tissues, your glasses, billfold and walker?
“I always hated the kid’s book of the mama rocking her child, and in the end the grown child was rocking her mother. I can’t escape the reality that you are now old. Moms and Dads never grow old and feeble in our minds; they are the strong, capable ones whom we always go to with everything. Life doesn’t always seem fair, and old age is very cruel. I know it is God’s plan, but when will I ever be ready for ’the plan’? Maybe I don’t tell you enough, but Mom and Dad, I love you very much and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thanks for everything you do.”
Love, Patty
