Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Mothers (05/02/05)
TITLE: Mothers don’t die
By Perpetual Murray
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My mom’s life was the precise description of the term “long suffering.” Widowed in her mid-thirties and left with nine children to bring up unaided, my mom forfeited the simplest of luxuries.
I don’t remember my mom ever saying she needed some “me” time; we were in her space day in and out. She was there to cheer on, encourage, admonish, guide, lead, listen, comfort, and bless.
There are millions of things I could mention, which I know would never have come to pass in the lives of my siblings and myself had it not been for my mother, but the greatest and undeniably priceless gift she could ever have given us was to expose us to a life totally dependant on the Lord.
My mother was always on her knees, interceding for us. Whereas most parents would have sought escape in tonics or other canal means, my mom took on rebellion, defiance, naughtiness, ungratefulness, confusion, despondency and immaturity with prayer.
Perhaps it was the ease with which she took things as they came, which gave us the impression that she could do anything. I know subconsciously we even entertained the notion that she would live forever because she was just so constant, so dependable, so there. If anything was ever certain in our lives, it was the assurance that this woman would always be there.
Until I had my son, I just never realized what a gem of a woman the Lord had appointed to be my mom. I learned that you never ceased to be a woman simply because you had children. I discovered that you still hurt even when you became mom. I found out that you had to make a conscious decision to put your children before your dreams and ambitions…I became aware of my mom’s decision to die to self for her children’s sake.
Four years after my mom’s death, I am discovering that I am not the only one whose eyes have been opened to the true nature of the woman my siblings and I called mom for over three decades. We do not talk about her all the time, but listening to one another, we can pick up that each one of us is becoming more like her each day. Like me, my brothers and sisters have stepped up their walk with the Lord and I know that it is just a matter of time before we all declare that we know the Lord today because of the prayers this woman we were privileged to call mom said on our behalf all those moments she religiously labored on her knees.
Mothers don’t die. My mom’s body may have done its time, but the evidence that she walked this earth will never find a hiding place for generations to come. Every time I get on my knees to pray, I am taken back to those moments when mom would spare no breath to worship the Rock of Ages…
* This piece is written with thanks to the Lord for bringing to life a little girl on 9th June, 1936, who later took on the name, ‘mom.’ My mom.
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