Category: Potpourri

Those first two little teeth… those same little teeth that made their debut five years earlier mark a milestone in that little one’s life, when they begin to have a bit more space in that growing jaw and then become wiggly in delighted little fingers. With probably the same thrill and joy we felt upon first seeing them pop through, we pull them out. A surge of the bittersweet may wash over us as we observed this milestone. Those bittersweet moments only mothers know… the baby’s are growing… they’re learning to toddle across the floor, they fall and skin flawless knees, they ride on shoulders and then on bicycles, they work at their play with plastic money and baby keys that are in a moment replaced with exams and paychecks and car keys, they play dress up and then get dressed up, they colour in the lines and then write beautiful poetry, you hold them in your hand and then in your prayers—those sweet moments mothers treasure in their hearts for a lifetime.

I remember noticing the smile becoming broader and the teeth more spaced than ever before. I knew in my heart that the little boy face was transforming into the face of a young man—that the temporary little teeth of a toddler would be replaced with the permanent teeth of a man. Oh, these bittersweet moments… mama’s all over the globe know them all too well. Now, at the risk of sounding downhearted about these life-passages, I assure you it’s just another of the many melancholy moments a mama experiences. They’re those bittersweet moments… pieces in the quilt of motherhood.

This quilt—the quilt of motherhood—warms us, stifles us, wraps us and covers us as it defines the days gone by. Mothers fold blankets and cover their babies with quilts, and then they fold their hands and cover their children in prayer. They, at once, picture the sweet past memories and picture special futures of their babies. All the while, time is piecing and shaping their quilt.

Each square of the quilt might represent a child; some squares: neat and tidy, some symmetrical and straight, some have frayed edges, missing stitches and torn material, some with the softest cloth with extra batting, some have raveled seams and the tattered blocks look nothing like the original squares. The quilts of motherhood are pieced with tear-stained fabrics, the soft hues and bright colours, the dark sashing, blood-stained threads, soft cotton and rough cloth, the fabric of childhood memories, hopes and dreams.

Every mother’s quilt tells a story—lots of stories, really and every mother knows where the stitches are neat and even, and every mother knows right where the tears and frayed edges are. As the days pass, even the dark squares and worn pieces bring a sort of a melancholy yet sweet memory. The older the quilt, the dearer the comfort; the older the quilt, the more valuable the stitches that hold the pieces together. There’s much hope in both the older and newer quilts: the older with memories and the newer with hopes and dreams. Both are warming to a mother’s heart. Both cover a mother with a joy unspeakable. Both sweet— though one, bittersweet.

The quilt of motherhood is a precious possession… marvelous and challenging, sunny and stormy, glad and disappointing, easy and difficult—no matter, most would do all the days over again just to have this treasured possession. It’s at once unique and universal, and yet, no two are alike. No amount of money in the world could create the treasure that mothers possess in this: the quilt of motherhood and only the saving knowledge of Christ and the blessed assurance of His Holy Spirit and life eternal is worth more than this: the quilt of motherhood.

I just came in from receiving a package from the UPS man. He stops by every few days to bring packages for my husband. And it dawned on me today that he is always greeted by a little caravan of children on bicycles or skates or, on rainy days, leaning over the back of the sofa to watch him through the living room window. They watch for him and he watches for them. They see his big brown truck driving down the lane and instantly recognize him as the UPS man because of his brown uniform. He always looks neat and tidy and always represents his company well. The USP man may actually be one of several men who’ve made deliveries on this route, but they’re all “the UPS man” because of that uniform.

So, today was no different. The children ran to greet him and I came out to take the package. In my uniform. I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud to be wearing my uniform as I was this day. Because I realized that I am as easily recognizable to him as he is to me and my children. His uniform indicates he’s on the job – he’s at work, taking care of business, doing what he’s supposed to be doing in a timely and efficient manner. He’s representing his company well. It dawned on me that I am easily recognizable to him (and any of the several others that make deliveries here) because, I, too, am wearing a uniform. My uniform tells others that I am a woman, a keeper at home and I’m a mother. The apron is the mother’s uniform. The wording on my apron, Welcome Home, says to my family and to those who stop in, that I am glad to be here and that I am glad they’re here, too.

When I slip on this apron and tie the strings, I am making a conscious decision to have a mind to work. I have a job as a keeper at home. Titus 2. 3-5 tells me a bit of why I put on this apron. I do love my husband, I do love my children, I do work here, I do guard and guide the home and in doing so, I do want to represent them well. That’s what my uniform says to them and to the watching world – and to me. It says I’m right here, right where I belong, doing what I was meant to do.

The apron: it’s motherhood’s uniform. It means something… it’s one of the Good Things of motherhood. What a blessing – what a privilege – to be able to wear it.

A Mother Worthy of Remembrance

No matter who you are, where you live, what your age… the very mention of the word “mother” likely conjures up many emotions. Even when we mothers look at ourselves in the mirror, we undoubtedly have mixed emotions as to who we are, what we do, what we hoped we’d be and what we are becoming. We may think back on memories of our mothers with bittersweet emotion… loving them for who they were or tried to be, cringing with regret for taking them for granted, regretting things they did that hurt us or things we did that hurt them, we may feel a sense of loss over the mother we never really knew, we may have ambivalent feelings toward them who have or had lives so different than our own… Whatever the case, Mother’s Day surely is a time when emotions run high, when remorse or guilt grips us, or when joyful memories flood our hearts and minds. This Mother’s Day, I am especially mindful of who I am as a mother to my children, of how I am viewed by them and how they’ll remember these days of their childhood and early adulthood—thus the title of my message today: A mother worthy of remembrance.

In addition to considering how I will be remembered by them, I am now also considering another phase and that is how the LORD will use me in the lives of my grandchildren… and I am continually sobered by the thought that the grandchildren, like my own children need loving encouragement and they need a faithful mother/grandmother who will daily be remembering them at the feet of the LORD, that someone loves them and cares so much for them that they are a frequent topic of conversation before the LORD. I know that one of the saddest thoughts I had at the passing of my husband’s grandmother was the fact that we would no longer have her daily prayers of intercession on our behalf. I knew that day by day we were carried to the throne of God in her prayers. It was knowing this that taught me to daily pray for our children… it was her example of steadfast prayer that taught me to pray and to wait on the LORD for His timing and His answers, in the same way, she taught me to pray for their future spouses, for their lives and for the work the LORD had planned for them. Her dedication to prayer and of daily waiting on the LORD was a discipline she learned from her mother—of whom, as I understand it, was also widely known as a woman of prayer.

It amazes me how the LORD works, in that some of her prayers were not answered until long after her death, and yet, seemingly unanswered prayer was not a discouragement to her while she lived. It is knowing this and trusting in the LORD’s timing that has inspired me to pray for our children in a whole new way. I pray for many things for them and I pray that they, too, will learn the discipline of prayer—the obedience of prayer. I pray for their daily walk, their decisions, their future work, for their future spouses, and so on. Recorded prayers and recorded answers to prayers have surely been an encouragement to me as I look back on petitions before the LORD and His directions and answers to them. More and more I hunger for the times of the day when I can go aside and pray. The LORD has demonstrated His loving and listening ear over and over as He directs through His Word and in answers to prayers. He has confirmed His listening ear time and time again and I trust Him for His past deeds and future promises—for what He has said, that will He do. The prayers of His saints are wafting up as incense about His throne. What a blessing this is to know. And so, prayer is one of the disciplines of a mother worthy of remembrance.

These Grand and great-grandmothers were models to emulate; they are mothers worthy of remembrance … and their disciplines are worthy of remembrance today, as I know that my mother in law credits her own disciplined life to the examples she saw in her mother and grandmother. Faithful women. We may not personally have living examples of faithfulness, but the LORD has given us models of women who trusted in Him, whose faith was a credit to them. We have past lives and living examples and accounts of women in the Word who stand as models for us today. Sarah is an example of a woman whom the LORD found faithful. We are told in 1 Peter that we are her daughters if we do well and are not afraid with any amazement… or as the American Standard says: “…if ye do well, and are not put in fear by any terror.” We are to trust and not fear. We see once again that fear and faith cannot be carried in the same bucket. And so, faithfulness is one of the disciplines of a mother worthy of remembrance.

 

It is the desire of our hearts to be found faithful… just as we read in the Word: “His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.” —Matthew 25.23

 

I so wish that I had had the wisdom in the early years to carefully weigh the decisions I was making and the lasting impact those decisions would have. I didn’t grow up as a disciplined person, nor did I learn to carefully plan decisions. Oh, how I thank and praise the LORD today for His watchcare over me even when I did not know Him. Motherhood sort of just “happened” to me as a young married and I would apply what I was reading or what was suggested to me at the time. I must thank the LORD continually that He specifically placed me in “strategic” places where I would learn or hear ideas and try and do them. I didn’t know early on that decisions needed to be made with wisdom. I didn’t carefully weigh out all my decisions in light of the future or in light of eternity. The tyranny of the urgent and the expedient ways of doing things dictated how I made decisions. As I look back now, very seldom was wisdom employed in the making of decisions. I was easily swayed by emotion and worldly reasoning. I didn’t weigh out the consequences of my actions… though I was hemmed in by the LORD, I took much liberty to exercise what I would later come to see as poor judgment.

I continually grow in this area of decision making as I still on occasion tend to be impulsive and have to keep this in mind when buying things for our home, for our children, etc. I see such great need for wisdom and understanding when teaching the children, when talking with others, in making lists for the day, in planning schedules or whatever other decisions might need to be made. I often pray for wisdom and understanding as I seek the LORD as the mother in our home. I sometimes think that there is nothing I need more than this with the passing of each day. The Word teaches us that wisdom is more to be desired than gold. Proverbs 31.26 says: “She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.” And so this tells me that seeking wisdom is one of the disciplines of a mother worthy of remembrance.

Psalms 49.3 “My mouth shall speak of wisdom; and the meditation of my heart shall be of understanding.”

Psalms 51.6 “Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.”

Psalms 90.12 “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”

Another one of the disciplines of a mother worthy of remembrance is the discipline of virtue. We learn of this in the Word that the Proverbs 31 woman was a woman of virtue. She was a woman of excellence. What a loving and Marvelous God to give us this insight into His design for us each one. O, that it might be said of us: “Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.” (Proverbs 31.29) We learn of this quality in the New Testament as well. 2Peter 1.3 “According as his divine power hath given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of him that hath called us to glory and virtue” This quality is both passive—and what I mean by this is that it is a quality of the mind or the way we think on things—and it is active, it is what governs what we do and how we behave, and it is given to us by the Lord Himself.

Philippians 4.8 “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”

2Peter 1:5 “And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge;”

Desiring and becoming a virtuous woman means deciding to leave off with worldly thinking and worldly ideals. A virtuous woman cannot be measured by the standards of the world—she is measured by the standards of the Word. And just as I shared with you earlier as well as last week, faith and fear cannot be carried in the same bucket, so also the Word and the world cannot be carried in the same bucket—one will displace the other. In order to follow the Word, you must leave off following the world. The road of either one is going in an opposite direction. A virtuous woman does not travel both roads… she has chosen the better part, she has chosen to be a woman of the Word. And so, at any cost, seeking to be virtuous is one of the disciplines of a mother worthy of remembrance.

Proverbs 31.10 “Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.”

And finally, though this subject is far from being covered, a mother worthy of remembrance is a mother who is loving. O, how I desire to be a mother who, through love, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. I feel quite certain that this aspect of love is the desire of your heart as well. No matter how much I pray, no matter how disciplined I am, no matter how I seek wisdom and virtue, if I don’t have or demonstrate love, I am nothing… and that’s not how I want to be remembered.

A truly loving mother… that’s a mother worthy of remembrance.

pamela spurling ~ TheWelcomeHome ~ 2001 ~

So, we were sitting at the breakfast table – the three additional chairs added to the coziness (I said, cozy-ness, not craziness) we experienced yesterday morning. After all the honey drizzled oatmeal was served and the glasses and sippy-cups were filled with milk, the clanking of spoons scooping around the sides of the bowls soon sounded like a sixth grade band class. I was looking around the table into the faces of each of the children and I was profoundly struck with the thought that we (my husband and I) were sitting in the midst of the most important work we’d ever experienced.

I was, for a moment, practically breathless as I considered what was before me. So, in one of those rare moments where I’m profoundly struck with a thought that I know is pivotal or life-changing, I again looked into the faces of the children around the table – this time, not the number of children but, rather, their relationship to me. So, I had an epiphany of sorts, when I realized that I am in the probably the most important role of my life or season of my life right now.

And here, I thought it was all about the season in the sun. O, don’t get me wrong, the season in the sun was the most life changing, most challenging and stretching season of my life and it was in that season that I most often saw the miraculous, gracious hand of the LORD and it was in that season that I experienced blessing far greater than I could have ever asked or possibly imagined. I stumbled into the season in the sun and thought it would go on forever. I didn’t know a thing about the passing of seasons and the winds of change (I believe I had that cool, youthful, know-it-all syndrome). The season in the sun was – and I’ll be quite frank here: all about me; it was all about what was going on with me, all about what was happening to me, my baby, my pregnancy, my doctor then my midwife, my due-dates, my toddlers, my diaper bags, my nursing schedule, etc., etc., etc.

The season in the sun is the softest and hardest, the most rewarding and most disappointing and, certainly the most awe-inspiring season that I know of. The season in the sun is totally where it’s at: it’s the season of the childbearing years, it’s the season of great blessing.

Well, so I was sitting at the table and there was that epiphany. It was sort of like that time a couple of summers ago where I was sitting on the back step of a friend’s patio and there were several sisters sitting our on the lawn – chairs in sort of a circle. The conversations were over babies and pregnancies for that’s what each were in the midst of — they were all both literally and figuratively sitting there in the season in the sun. Now, my sitting on the porch step had nothing to do with a choice to not sit in the circle, for I literally wanted to sit in the direct sunlight, and I did eventually pull up a lawn chair and joined them there in the circle on the lawn. However, had I not been sitting there on the step I would have missed a sort of signal or realization of the threshold of my entrance into the next season I would begin experiencing.

As that afternoon sun slowly slipped behind the tall trees, it was as if I realized that day that the sun was slowly setting on the season in the sun and I would no longer search out the best baby-sling, the best nursing bra, the best diaper-cover, the best stroller, the best iron supplement, the best car seat or the best support-hose. I realized that day that I wasn’t a part of the relevant conversation… for the first time, I noticed that all my contributions to the conversation were in the past-tense. And I still sort of have a catch in my throat when I look back on that day… for it’s one of those days that’s etched in my memory, never to be forgotten.

When I was in the season in the sun, though older women continually warned me, I didn’t realize how swiftly it was passing; I thought the days would never end. But, ironically, though the days were long, the weeks flew by. And now, looking back, I see that the years flew by while I was in the other room changing diapers. A couple of decades flew by while I was desperately trying to hold it all together – making sure that no one doubted I could handle it. Now… I wish for one more day… sort of vowing to not try and have it all together, not worry about what others would think, say or do… but for one more day of the season in the sun… one more positive test, one more pregnancy, one more birth, one more baby to nurse………………O, but that epiphany? I’ll write about it tomorrow.

When I first started blogging, I just wrote about stuff that was going on around me, sites I’d come across in my world-wide-web travels – cool stuff and helpful stuff… in addition, I wrote about what I thought of what was going on in “the church” today and the daily news stuff. And, for the most part, I suppose I still do all that… but with less pics and links (and that’s bcz of the limitations of this “WordPress” format). Anyway… I think For May’s blogs, I’ll just pick a theme to concentrate on… hmm… bling! The month of May… Motherhood!

Motherhood

I recently talked with a young woman who was lamenting her lot in life as sort of the worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper woman. Now, she didn’t call herself that, she just said one unfortunate phrase that lots of other tired worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper women say to their sloppy childish ungrateful children: “I’m not the maid around here.” (To which some innocent, pitiful child once said: “Well, then, who is?!)

It’s been a long time since I said those very regrettable words: “I’m not the maid around here.” And that’s likely when I thought or felt I was merely the family’s worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper woman. That was early on when I actually was the nurser-changer-worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper woman in our family. That was at a time when I didn’t grasp the high calling of motherhood and didn’t value the tremendous gift and opportunity afforded to the blessed nurser-changer-worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper women of the world.So, to that tired (and now visionary) woman I said, Motherhood isn’t something to just get through! And though she felt “put upon” for all that she needed to do, she really wasn’t just a maid. As a play on words, I told her… you’re not THE maid – you’ve GOT IT made: You’re the MOTHER! *Y*O*U* are everything *y*o*u* ever wanted. You get that? *YOU* are everything you ever wanted to be! You are what you were created to be and you are doing what you were created to do!

Now, at this point she said, No. No way. I just want to get through this! I am NOT everything I ever wanted to be. I said, sure you are… You wanted to love and be loved. You wanted to set things up your way. You wanted to drive all over. You wanted to create. You wanted to have things set up and you wanted to tell others how to do things. You wanted to be young… you wanted to talk… you wanted to make a difference, be important, leave your mark—you wanted to be someone! Well, you are someone! You’re a mother!

I went on to tell her one more thing. Be a good one. Be the best nurser-changer-worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper mother you can be. Be today what you hope your children will fondly remember. You only get one season to be the nurser-changer-worker-washer-cooker-driver-word repeater-shopper-picker-upper — and it may seem like a loooong season but whatever you do, whatever you say, whatever it takes: make the season count.