Mother's Day

I come from a dysfunctional family. So do you. Sadly, the Fall ensures that in one way or another we are all flawed humans wallowing in the muck and mire of our own sin and a world gone mad. Your dysfunctional home may be doing its best to cover the madness with the appearance of a Mom wearing high heels while she serves the children made-from-scratch chocolate chip cookies ala' "Leave it to Beaver" style.  Or your home may just let it all hang out with the whirlwind leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake. But really its all the same. Does a mask really cover up the fact that there is a hidden face beneath. Maybe for a time, but not really. So when my Mom tells me that "she didn't do a good job" raising us, I'm stuck between choked-back sobs and hysterical laughter.  Why, I wonder, does she think that? Is it because our home faced down alcoholism, control issues, ADHD, sickness, disease and death?  Or is it because, however briefly, Mom forgot that our God is sovereign? No, He is not the author of sin--He hates it.  He wishes it had never happened.  But love demands freedom and He had to stare down the choice we made in the Garden through the backdrop of the cross. A cross He would hang on. For "God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ" (2Cor. 5:19). What parent doesn't feel the weight of pain that hangs on the necks of their children? None I know.  Ours is a Father who stared down the pain that would at times dwell on Wright street because He knew that His glory is best seen in redemption. Do you know of anything more glorious? Anyone could take a perfect world and produce perfect people. God did that once, too. Remember the garden. But what makes our God so glorious, so worthy of our praise is that He--only He--could clothe Himself in flesh, take up our pain and redeem it. You know anyone who can do that? Me, either. We tend to make things worse when we meddle with them. He takes our mess--our dysfunction--and redeems it for His glory.

So, while things were never perfect in our home (yours, either) He has taken it and weaved it into the most lovely fabric of redemption and "it is marvelous in our eyes". I wouldn't trade that for a mask of perfection anyway. Our masks never seemed to fit and kept falling off for the world to see. But lest Mom over inflate her sense of fault and diminish God's sovereignty and glory I'd like to write out the top ten reasons why she is the best mother in the world. Don't try to argue it--I promise she's the best--here's why:

1. She made sure that I had the opportunity to fall in love with Jesus. He's irresistible--- but we need to be exposed. I learned to love him on those small brown chairs in Sunday school rooms at FPC. I hid His Word in my heart. It didn't hurt that Mrs. Jones bribed us with money each week for memory work. Is that against anyone's religion? Lila Romine played the piano and Mr. McCampbell led us in singing. He did that weird hook thing with his hand, why? Watered down red kool-aid and butter cookies on your finger. Mr. Jones teaching cathecism. Mrs. Lovingood teaching us "Only a boy named David" and "Be Careful Little Eyes what You See".  One smell of that building and my mind floats back to a wonderful childhood in church.

2. She loved my Daddy regardless of what was going on. In a world of disposable marriages, she showed what commitment means. Their relationship just may be the closest thing I've seen to the love of the Father. He will follow after us to hell and back because His love simply will not let us go. I know of no one else on this earth other than my Mother who has that kind of tenacity. It may actually border on insanity but that is another post altogether!

3. My Mother made sure we had every opportunity despite some pretty difficult circumstances. I know of many people under much less pressure who simply fold. (Me, for example) I'm not good in a crisis. She must've been born for them. We were hauled to every manner of activity no matter what was going on at home. That takes intestinal fortitude. Or sheer stubbornness--she has that too. In a good way.

4. She cultivated rich relationships with family. We went to visit Granny Ruby, Murr and Daddy Earnest, the cousins in Coker Creek. Our lives have been so blessed because of their influence.

5. She had Summar dance ballet and be a cheerleader. Few things in adulthood bring more joy to my heart and deep laughter to my soul than this fact. My children so enjoy photos of her in her make-up and tutu.

6. She delights in her children. So much was this influence that I have five of my own. She adores her grandchildren. In a world that views children as an inconvenience and hindrance to fulfilling one's own dreams, she modeled selflessness. She has reinforced the dignity of raising children. She has never once said, "are you having another baby?" except with joy and anticipation. That alone should let you know what kind of woman she is. She just may be one of only a handful of people who actually believe God when He says children are a gift. Does our Father give anything other than good gifts?

7. She provides endless laughter for Summar and I. Especially if Summar has a camera. Few people have this gift. It is endless joy. She humbly accepts my attempts at humor at her expense. So varied are her excentricies (is that a word) that each one of us has our own joy at her expense. Daddy moving the car. Summar with the camera. Me with words of wit.

8. She found my husband for me. . . well, its a long story. Some family stories need to remain in the family, eh? I could not be more blessed.

9. She will absolutely drop everything to run to the side of someone hurting or in need. Many of you know this. There is no one I'd rather have in my corner that my Mom. She's also a fighter if you need that. A raging brown ball of fur, she is.

10. The uncontested reason my Mom is the best Mom in the world is because she has me for a daughter. REALLY! It took greatness to raise this level of intelligence, beauty mixed with compassion and humility. Oh yes, my wit . . .and humor. . .*wink* smile!

I love you, Mom

Joy