Thinking About Mother’s Day – Part 2

I had four brothers when I was young. That would put my Mom as the only woman in a house of seven. I have often jokingly said it is no wonder that she died so young. My Mom died at the age of 41. I recall the day I realized I had lived longer than she did. It was that day when exactly how young she had died hit me full force. Now as I approach my 51st birthday next month, I am more aware than ever.

My mom was the older of two children. Her name was/is Martha Jeanette Hodges Mann. She was not a person who enjoyed being in front of a crowd. In truth, she ran from it. The limelight was her most feared place. She was a servant with a servant’s heart. She was always willing to do whatever she could behind the scenes to make things run smoothly. She truly had the spiritual gift of helping. After her death, the pastor of our church said, he did not know how he was going to keep running the church without her. She had made herself so invaluable to that church and ministry.

My mom was raised in a Christian home – sort of. As best I can remember from talking to her she was raised in a faith tradition where she was taught that as long as she was baptized, she was okay. That brought its own set of problems. Coupled with my father's alcoholism she and my father did not take the family to church and did few things that would make us a Christian home. She came to faith in Christ in her early 30s, within weeks of me coming to the same place while I was eleven. Since that occurred in another tradition, she was baptized (immersed) for her faith a week before I was in the same church and by the same pastor.

My mother knew I was going into ministry before anyone else did. She told me as much. When I asked her how she knew, she simply said, “I just knew.” Compare that to my Dad’s reaction in which he went to his grave amazed that God would call one of his sons into ministry. Moms just know some things that Dads do not get.

My mother always wanted a daughter. She never had one. I recall a few months after the birth of my oldest daughter traveling to my Mom’s grave. I went to the car seat; got my daughter out of the car; told my wife I would be back and walked over to my mother’s grave holding my daughter. I knelt down and said, “Lord would you have my Mom look down here?” I then said, “Mom. Here is the daughter you always wanted.” Even my wife to this day has not fully understood that gesture, but there was something very healing in it for me. I knew it was just her body not her that was in that grave. I know that heaven is in the spiritual dimension and not necessarily “up.” But I felt closer to her at that time.

Some days I will still really miss my Mom. There is something a son feels toward his Mom that he never feels toward his father. I have allowed the Lord to heal those hurts and make me a better, more sensitive person because of it. I have many times reminded myself through the years to count each day as precious with those I love. I am not promised they will continue. I do not always live up to that, but when I remember it as I should, memories of my Mother come across my mind.

Do you count each day as a precious gift from God? Life is a precious gift. Count it as a blessing from God. Encourage others to live it to the full!! And you yourself do the same. Live life to the full. I want the quote below from George Bernard Shaw to be true of my life.

"I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. Life is not a brief candle to me. It’s a sort of splendid torch, which I get a hold of for the moment. And I want it to burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations. "

Mother’s Day is one of those times when I evaluate and remind myself to live life to its fullest. I already have lived 20% longer than my Mother. I do not want to take a single day for granted. Her death often reminds me of that.