“Children – praise your Mother with great pride.” ~Proverbs 31:28
Chloe wiggled in her chair,
swinging legs that didn’t reach the floor.
She scanned the classroom seeking inspiration, maybe even a little
divine intervention. It came in the form
of a heart on the bulletin board left over from Valentine’s Day. Chloe leaned over a blank paper, poked her
tongue out the corner of her mouth for added concentration and wrote:
Dear Mommy - I love you cuz you’re fun and nise. I lik the way you push me on the swing. I love you cuz you helpd me to lern to bake kookies
and rid my bike. You are good at putting
on bandaids and making bad dreems go away. Happy Mothers Day.
On Mom’s big day, Chloe woke early, tiptoed quietly into the
kitchen, and left the letter and a juice-pouch planter on the counter, just as
Mom arrived.
“Thank you, honey,” Mom said tearfully. “It’s so beautiful!”
A dozen year later, an almost-grown teenager sat on her
bedroom floor staring at blank stationery.
“Dear Mom,” is all it said. Chloe wanted desperately to convey something special
to her mother, but her feelings were conflicted. Tears of gratitude flowed for the times Mom understood
and hugged her at just the right moment.
But there were also tears of anger – when Mom refused a privilege that
everyone else’s mom allowed. The ‘happy’
tears eventually won out, and Chloe began by writing:
Dear Mom - I know we don’t always agree, but you’re still the best mom ever. Thanks for loving me, and listening, and for
. . .
Tears spilled onto the paper. She crumpled the note and tossed it at the
trash can. Two more attempts ended the
same way. After collecting herself, she bought
a generic card at the mall. Better than
nothing, she thought.
Now a mother herself, Chloe woke to the whisper of bedside giggles. Three elfin faces gazed back at her, each presenting
homemade cookies, cards, and hug coupons.
She fussed over every gift before her kiddie-escort led her to the
kitchen for peanut butter Pop Tarts and marsh-mellowed coffee.
That night when she crept into their rooms to kiss them each
goodnight, a tsunami of childhood memories washed over her. She recalled her own mother’s teary-eyed
kisses when she was five and wished she’d given the unfinished letter she’d written
as a teenager. Chloe pulled stationary
from her drawer . . . and began anew.
Moms are the lifelines to all that’s good, true, and right. They’re faithfulness shows us how to love and
sacrifice for others. Thank God for all
Moms – both living and resting eternally.
Lord, bless all Moms today. Help
them continue to love and give of themselves to others. Help them feel precious in Your eyes, knowing
that they’re loved and admired. When
they’re weary, strengthen them with hope, compassion and peace. Amen
