In Praise of Mothers

Today, here in New Zealand and in several other countries around the world, we are honouring and celebrating the incredible job that mothers do ... the growing, the nurturing, the teaching, the training, and the letting go.

Yesterday we celebrated the first birthday of a special baby born at twenty-four weeks. We rejoiced with the parents that she has made it this far and appears to be thriving. But we also remembered again the prayers we made both for her and her mother and the sacrifices the mother had made, including the threat to her own life, and months and months of separation from her older children.

But, I suspect, she made them willingly, just as most mothers do when they sacrifice their time ... their sleep ... their health ... their own needs ... their desires ... their careers ... their dreams ... their financial stability ... and, even some of their relationships (although hopefully only with those outside their family and not with their husband or other children).

As anyone who is a mother knows, the job is not easy. But it is extremely rewarding. I count it a privilege that I was called to be a mother. I didn't always get it right, but I'm thankful that God entrusted into my care five precious sons who still call me Mum.

But, this isn't about me. It's about the sets of mothers I'd like to celebrate on this Mother's Day.

Firstly, and it goes almost without saying, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for my own mother. In my younger years it was customary for friends to share what was known as autograph books. Certainly, I can remember passing them around as a teen and having friends write pithy sayings and the occasional word of wisdom. My mother set up one for me when I was still a baby with the following verse:

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,

Look upon a little child;

Pity my simplicity,

Suffer me to come to Thee.

She also shared some of her thoughts and dreams for me, and as I look back now, not only do I marvel at the maturity of faith she had at the time of my birth (she was only twenty years old) but I am eternally grateful that her greatest desire was for her children to know the Lord and to live for Him, and that she did her part to ensure I was brought up in a Christian home and heard the Gospel from an early age.

It's become popular to blame our parents nowadays for the impact our upbringing has had on us as adults, and my parents weren't perfect - just as I am not perfect (although at times I might like to try and deceive myself into thinking that I am - or at least better than some) but they did the best that they could and they strove to instill in me a love for God and His Word.

Then there are my grandmothers. My maternal grandmother was like a second mother to me and I felt her loss greatly when she was killed the year before we moved to New Zealand. For most of my childhood she and my grandfather attended the same church and while my grandfather's involvement was limited due to ongoing ill health, my grandmother was always involved. I am beginning to realise that I am more like her than I ever imagined in that whenever the camera comes out nowadays I tend to hide. As a teen and a young mum I couldn't understand why she avoided photos, however, now I do (hence the reason I have no photo of her to share). I also seem to share her weird preoccupation with ensuring the house is clean even if no one is going to see it. (There's a story told of how she used to wash even her curtains before prayer meeting at her house!)

My paternal grandmother died a few years after we moved to New Zealand. Saying goodbye to her was so very hard, knowing that I would never see her again. She and my paternal grandfather were well advanced in years before they came to Christ, so I don't have the same spiritual legacy from them that I do with my mother's parents, but they still had an impact on me, particularly in my adult years. I suspect every one of my sons who is old enough to remember will never forget Grandma's Sunday afternoon teas when we visited. A great cook, I cannot believe that I am only now trying to recreate some of the favourite meals that she used to make in my childhood.

Finally, I want to honour and thank the five beautiful daughters that have joined our family as a result of our sons choosing them. Each has different skills and interests, even different parenting styles, but each has made the necessary sacrifices and each is doing a fantastic job raising my grandchildren. I couldn't be prouder.