Don’t you just love vintage? Well, some of us do. It’s fun to look at these pictures and wonder what their lives were like, what happened to them, even try to guess their names. I just love people and stories.
I don’t dwell on the past though I have had to work on that in my own life. Those aren’t the good old days The Bible even warns about that, we are always to look forward to God’s goodness in our lives, to focus on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. As we catch up with May and flowers and begin to celebrate motherhood the world over, let’s reflect on own own ideas and ideals and what we have both learned from our mothers and being mothers if you are.
These old photographs are sometimes altered or color tinted. They can even distort the true image of the one being photographed. The same is true of preconceptions, misconceptions, there is both perception and deception. Sometimes, if not always, it is in the way you look at it, not the glass half full or empty, but the rose colored glasses.
There are those who see their mothers as better than they were, out of love and that is a distortion, even neglected children will do this years later. There are those who have never known a mother’s love but have been shuffled from foster home to foster home, even if there was someone to care, it is not the same and the system is flawed.
There are those who put their mothers on a pedestal, and don’t even see them as anything except a superwoman, with no flaws at all. That too, is a deception. No matter how much we love our mothers, they are just as human as everyone else. The get tired, cranky, children cause them to lose sleep. They need a break. The noise level is above her limit.
Out of grief, Mother’s Day was born, and the woman who brought into our calendar suffered mental breakdowns. She was not pleased with it being commercialized by candy and card companies and florists and even restaurants. It happens. It happens a lot, mother are in good company with St.Valentine and Jesus.
I don’t think mothers should have to put on a pretense. The ” I’m fine. ” response doesn’t always ring true, and there are sisters in Christ to help. Needing help or asking for it, doesn’t make you a bad mother but being worn out and overwrought opens the door to the possibility. Mothers really can’t leap tall buildings, but they do have wings of angels to comfort and enfold them in prayer. They need quiet and time to rest in Jesus.
They need to teach their children to be quieted by God’s love, I read a beautiful story of a woman whose daughter was searching her Bible. When asked what she was looking for, she said, ” The tears. ” How often have we cried over matters that have spiraled out of control. We are wise to pray for children early and often. They will learn from example. Teach them the power of words and the stillness of the holy Lord and they will end up teaching others.
Finally, last but not least, saving the best for last. Ta dah, my own mother. My rose colored glasses were sometimes on and at other times I was oblivious to her strength and determination, and her faults and even despair. She just seemed so larger than life because of what she sowed in me.
I have an indelible image of her as a hungry child, sitting on the steps coveting the neighbor boy’s peanut butter biscuit. I see her as a teen that never quite fit into the popular girls group at high school. I see her as a dropout, wanting better, getting married too young.
I see her as a seventeen year old in a hospital bed with a sign that says not to bring her baby, me. After four days of labor, I was born and I was blue and she was bloody, and we were both nearly dead. But the Lord had a plan.
I see her at home looking for a job, and my father walking out on us. I see her learning to drive and taking me to school and working way to hard at jobs and caring for other children. I saw her as a sister, daughter, wife again, still over worked and over wrought and dealing with fear and pain and things I never knew, as a child.
I saw her devotion to the Lord begin to blossom and multiply. But she never knew how free she really was, just like me and probably most of us, she needed encouragement and building up again, especially after a major spiritual attack of the enemy, but God was always greater in her in the person of Jesus.
She forgot her own worries and prayed for me, when I had no strength left to pray for myself. She has been with me all the way, through all my failures as well. I pray for her now more than ever because she is so gifted and doesn’t even realize, she often neglects herself to serve others and I constantly remind her not to make that pilgrimage back into darkness, but to rest. He wants the weary to rest. He promised it.
She is seventy three, still going strong. I have to slow her down. She is a prayer warrior and unofficial Bookworm champion, her memory of the Lord she once walked so closely with is back and in His name oppression ceased. She has given me everything and I never even knew it.
I never knew what to call this blog and when I typed this name, it just fit. She is the driving force with one exception and of course, Jesus, she gave me, adaughtersgiftoflove. Rebecca Jones