All Moms are Working Moms

“A mother can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take." ~ Cardinal Mermillod

My mother was a “Working Mom.”  But her work never resulted in a paycheck or any extra income.  Her payment came in the form of tantrums, runny noses, occasional hugs, errands to run, meals to prepare, and activities to plan.  Her “bonus” was a few moments of privacy in the bathroom.

Mom was a skilled arbiter, driver, nurse, seamstress, tutor and so much more.  She had an amazing ability to erase bad dream, find lost items, and clean up stuff that "nobody else saw" (like boogers on walls, skid-marked undies, or unflushed toilets).

My parents were watching TV one night when Mom said, "It's getting late.  I think I'll go to bed."  I listened in awe as Mom took a long detour.

After straightening the magazines on the coffee table, she went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for tomorrow’s lunches.

She rinsed out the ice cream bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following evening, checked the cereal box levels, prepared the coffee pot for brewing and set the table for breakfast the next morning.

Then Mom put some wet clothes in the dryer, a load of dirty clothes into the washer, ironed a shirt and fastened a loose button.  She picked up the game-pieces left on the table, watered the plants, and emptied a waste basket.

Yawning, she stretched before stopping by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the field trip, and located an overdue library book.

Dad called out, "I thought you were going to bed."  Mom replied "I’m on my way."  She filled the dog’s water dish and made sure the doors were locked.  Then she had a brief chat with my brother who was still doing homework.

In her own room, she set the alarm and laid out clothing for the next day.  Mom then said her prayers and replayed the day’s accomplishments.

Only then did she crawl into bed noting that Dad was already sleeping like a log.  Somewhere in the early hours her thoughts became disorganized enough to release her mind into sleep.

Before long, her alarm would sound and for a few glorious minutes, she enjoyed a respite of time before her family burst to the forefront of her mind.

Whether your office is in a professional building or in the comfort of your own home, I've been thinking about you.  Whether you're a married mom or a single mom, whether you dress up in a suit to go into the city or slide on your yoga pants in the morning to take care of your kids for the day, you’re all working moms. That’s just one of the things that make you special.

Thank God for all working Moms – those whose office is outside or in the comfort of their own homes.  Whether you're a married mom or a single mom, God bless you for all you do, especially that which goes unnoticed and underappreciated.  Amen

Mother's Day for Real

“(Mothers are) clothed with strength and dignity." ~ Proverbs 31:25

Mother’s Day - a time for flowers, fancy brunches, and thanking your Mom for putting up with all your crap.  But its earliest form took roots in the early 20^th century, thanks to Ann Marie Reeves Jarvis and her daughter Anna.

The daughter of Methodist Minister, Jarvis became a social activist whose goal was to lower infant mortality rates by teaching women how to properly care for their children, improve sanitary conditions, and fight disease.  Her Mother's Work Clubs raised money for medicine and helped moms suffering from tuberculosis.

The Work Clubs evolved further when the Civil War erupted, providing food, clothing, and medical care to both armies.  Jarvis lost 4 of her 12 children to the diseases that had spread rapidly during the War.  Despite her personal tragedies, she never stopped her community service.  After the War, she transformed the Clubs into groups promoting peace and reconciliation in their war-torn communities.

Jarvis justified her activism in the name of ‘motherhood.’  It was never about honoring mothers for all they did.

But after her mother’s death in 1905, her daughter Anna made it her mission to make Mother's Day a holiday - not only to honor her mother, but all mothers.   She quit her job and started a national letter-writing campaign aimed at government officials.  Supporters wore white carnations representing the purity of a mother's heart.

It worked!  Towns and churches in several states soon adopted Mother’s Day as a local holiday.  By 1914, President Woodrow Wilson made it a national holiday.

Soon, however, Anna began to loath its exploitation.  She couldn't stand the idea of people spending so much money on extravagant flower arrangements, sappy greeting cards and overly priced chocolates.

She spent the rest of her life promoting her founding vision for the day while fighting the floral, confectionary, and greeting card industries (“schemers, profiteers, and  charlatans” as she called them) who were "ripping people off" from her holiday.  To combat the commodification of carnations, Anna handed out free buttons so people wouldn't have to buy such high-priced flowers.

She didn't stop there.

She even went after first lady Eleanor Roosevelt for using Mother's Day in fundraising material for charities combating high maternal and infant mortality rates (the very type of work her own mother did during her lifetime).  She called those charities "Christian Pirates."  

Despite her best efforts, Mother's Day lives on.  Spending will top $23 billion this year.

Mother’s Day may be over-commercialized, much to Anna’s chagrin, but it’s still thoughtful to send your Mother a loving message of appreciation on her special day.  Spend time with her if you can, if even only in prayer.  Gifts are fine, but don’t forget to show her some real love with your sentiments.

Loving God, thank You for all the women who’ve brought forth new life.  Grant them the courage needed to face the uncertainties that life with children brings.  Give them the strength to live and to be loved in return, not perfectly, but humanly.  Amen

Unity ≠ Uniformity

“In Christ, it doesn’t matter if you’re a Jew or Gentile, slave or free, man or woman." ~ Galatians 3:28

Hollywood loves a great story, no matter its exaggeration.  If movies weren’t inflated far beyond real life, many people wouldn’t understand or catch on.  Embellishment incites emotion, conveys certain narratives, and seduces patrons.

So what if I told you that the myth of the slaves building pyramids is the stuff of tabloids; that the world simply couldn’t believe they were built without oppression?

The pyramids of the Giza Plateau are possibly the most famous structures in the world.  Much more than just royal tombs, research shows they had a socially-unifying meaning as well.

The image that Hollywood portrayed was one of slaves, working under the cruelty of Pharaoh’s whip, building the pyramids.  But recent archaeological findings suggest that their construction may have involved the entire country; every Egyptian household sent workers, grain, and food to contribute to this national project.

Though not slaves, laborers led hard lives and were paid and rewarded for their work.  Those who died during project, for example, were given the honor of being buried in tombs near the sacred pyramids.  That proximity and the manner of burial preparation supports this theory.

Once completed, a capstone encased in gold was placed atop the pyramid.  Then it was time for dancing and singing as the entire nation celebrated completion of their enormous achievement.

The mission of building the Pyramids served to unify the Egyptian state.  One might say that the people rallied round the Pharaoh to help bring to fruition his dream of eternal life.

Modern Christians can learn from that experience.

Like the early Egyptians, unity derives from a shared vision and common purpose.  Just as there were great differences among all those Egyptian workers; so there may be great differences among us.  But when we focus on a common task, the successes can be monumental.

It’s possible to have unity within the church … only if we give up on uniformity.  Unity is a Godly goal achieved when we are of one mind, purpose, mission, and goal.

Generally, we Christians have one Spirit, the Spirit of God.  We have a single purpose, to glorify God.  We have one mission, to spread the good news about Jesus Christ.  Our earthly goal is to live like Jesus - whose love is inclusive.

It’s our quest for uniformity that tends to divide us.

Uniformity requires belief in the same things practiced the same way.  Despite this unity, there’s no uniformity whatsoever on how to do these things, what it looks like, or where and when to do them.  There should be room among us for all kinds of Christians.  This sort of inclusive, loving unity goes a long way in glorifying God.

God of love, whose grace sustains us, help others feel that same love, even if it’s been revealed to them in different ways.  Give all those of faith a special place in your heart, demonstrated by the compassion of Your Son as an example for us.  Amen

Payment in 'Kind"

“Don’t do good only to those who treat you well." ~ Luke 6:33

The Thrift Shoppe was a treasure trove to Hannah.  Her eyes lit up as she entered it, greeting the volunteers like old friends.  After exchanging news with each of them her quest began.  She’d search every rack and shelf, not for herself, but with her entire extended family in mind.  She believed that clothes didn’t necessarily lose their value just because they were pre-loved.

Today she spotted a nearly-new dress that she knew her granddaughter would love.  She giggled with anticipation as she added it to her basket.  Five minutes with her sewing machine and you'd never recognize it.

Shopping for others gave her great joy.  But money was tight, so Hannah asked the store owner if he’d hold it for her until the beginning of next month.

“May I buy that dress for you?” asked the customer waiting in line directly behind her.

“Thank you, but I can’t accept such a gracious gift,” Hannah replied.

Then the total stranger explained why it was so important for her to help.

“I found myself homeless and vulnerable at 15,” she began, “when my mother died from a heroin overdose.  I slept in shelters when possible, but mostly on park benches, under bridges, and even on church steps.

One day as I sat on the frozen ground, thinking and dreaming, a group of teenagers walked by.  I watched as their eyes avoided mine.  They all walked on, chatting and laughing … all, except for one of the girls.

Bending down, she removed her jacket and handed it to me, saying “Here, you must be cold.”  Then she pulled out a twenty dollar bill from her wallet and a chocolate chip cookie from her pocket.  Handing both to me, she smiled; not a patronizing smile, but a warm, engaging one.  After she left, her warmth remained with me to this day.

“I’m no longer homeless; my situation has improved,” she continued.  “But I promised myself that I’d repay the kindness she’d shown me – as often as possible, in as many ways as possible, to as many people as possible, for the rest of my life.”

She paid for the dress.  The only payment she accepted in return was a heartfelt hug.

‘Paying it forward’ is an expression for repaying a good deed forward to others instead of back to the original benefactor.  It encourages us to reflect on the good that God has done in our lives and to pass it on to others.  Encouraging those we help to ‘pay it forward’ multiplies its goodness.

We never know what somebody‘s going through.  Sometimes all it takes to change their life’s trajectory is a kind gesture - taking one extra second to do something positive without expectancy.

Lord, help me “do all the good I can, by all the means I can, in all the ways I can, in all the places I can, at all the times I can, to all the people I can, as long as ever I can.” ~ John Wesley

One More Day

“Let love guide your life." ~ Colossians 3:14

As far as I’m concerned, few things are as adorable as sweet old couples.  How many times have you cracked a smile at a pair of cute old-timers holding hands in public?  If you’re like me, seeing love endure the test of time is not only heart-warming, it’s inspirational.

It makes me want to work that much harder on my own relationship so that my other half and I can one day rock matching canes too!  Old couples in love remind us that anything’s possible if you try hard enough.

Three times a week, my favorite octogenarians came to the pharmacy where I work to pick up their medications.  We all knew them by name.

Larry usually initiated our conversations and handled the transactions.  There was a gentle kindness in his smile.  He struck me as a person who lived how he believed others should, as if he were sunshine that radiated from only the best aspects of those he met, their flaws invisible to him.

Betty always seemed as happy as a clam at high tide.  She stood close by his side, paying careful attention to the things he said, but rarely entered the exchange herself.  Just being near him seemed to provide a serenity she couldn’t know without him near.

Never a day passed when they weren't together.  That’s why is seemed odd last week when Larry walked up to the counter by himself.

"How are you doing today, Larry?" I asked.

He told me he couldn’t be better, which was his usual reply.  I didn’t give it a second thought.

“I have 6 medications ready: 3 for you and 3 for Betty.”

He went sadly quiet … before saying, "My wife passed last night.”  Then through muffled tears: “I'm here to return the ones she wasn’t able to use."

My heart broke a little!  “I’m so sorry,” I muttered.

“Thank you,” he replied humbly.  “It was hard waking up to an empty side of the bed.  She was my wife and best friend.  Ours’s wasn’t a matter of counting the years, but making all our years count."

“I almost hate to admit, but I prayed to God that I’d live one day more than my wife.  You see Betty’s had dementia for over 20 years.  Nothing frightened me more than the thought of Betty confined to a nursing home alone.”

Larry never visited the pharmacy again.  He passed in his sleep 4 days later … just as he’d hoped; his many prayers answered.

Experts have suggested profound grief as one reason for close-coupled deaths among spouses.  I want to believe that in their case, Larry’s and Betty’s souls were so closely intertwined that they couldn’t be separated by death - a testament to the power of their love.

Lord, bless us with a sweetness of speech, a desire to work through struggles and stick to it when we’re tempted to flee, the discipline to quickly forgive and to ask for forgiveness, and a growing thankfulness for one another.  Amen

A Devoted Mother

“Children are a gift from God; His generous legacy." ~ Psalm 127:3

The moment Holly first held Casey she fell in love.  Her newborn baby smile was as sweet as a summer strawberry and filled her with a sunshine she never knew existed.

Brand new eyes peered back at a strange world after life in the womb.  Her legs kicked in a tiny jerky motion, looking for familiar resistance but finding nothing but air.

Motherhood was something Holly knew she was destined for, and those first few weeks with Casey were the best weeks of her life.  She treasured getting to know Casey and was looking forward to spending the next few months of her maternity leave together … until tragedy struck.

What started out as a strange tingling sensation progressed rapidly into severe neck pain.  Within hours, she was completely paralyzed, unable to breathe independently.

Doctors diagnosed Guillain-Barre syndrome – a potentially fatal condition where the body's own immune system attacks the nervous system.  Holly was placed on life support in the ICU.

Six weeks passed with little improvement.  Unable to talk due to a tube in her throat, she used a letter board to communicate with her family.  Depression washed in like an uninvited wave, knocking her sandcastles flat.

Casey became the brightest star in her universe.  Nurses regularly placed the infant so that the new Mom could feel close to her baby.  That tiny voice kept urging Holly to look beyond the darkness to the radiance of hope; and a promise that smiling and laughter were just around the corner.

Slowly and almost imperceptivity, Holly started moving again.  Doctors gradually increased the time she was off the ventilator until her lungs were strong enough to breathe freely.  Eventually she moved to a stroke ward to strengthen her arm muscles and fine motor skills with the goal of holding Casey again for the first time in 3 months.

And when that day finally arrived, she felt joy like never before … deeper … more intense.  Holding her baby again was akin to a spine-tingling symphony.

After 126 days in the hospital, Holly finally returned home, with a new appreciation for all the things that she could do again.  Especially a return to motherhood a devotion that shouts: “I’d rather live on my knees than die on my feet because my baby needs their mother alive.”

A mother's love for her children is no ordinary kind.  That’s the kind of love that God has for every single one of us.  His love gives us the absolute assurance that we’re never alone.  God’s love for us is unfailing and eternal.  The more we become rooted in God’s love, the more we will become happy, fruitful and fulfilled.

Dear God, thank You for the gift of this child to raise, this life to share, this mind to help mold, this body to nurture, and this spirit to enrich.  Help me, dear God, to help this precious child become all You mean them to be.  Amen

Listen From the Heart

“Answering before listening is both stupid and rude." ~ Proverbs 18:13

Meghna passed away yesterday.  Her age and the details of her death aren’t important; she’d prefer you know how she lived.

You would’ve liked her, most people did.  People often described Meghna as “charismatic” and “articulate,” adjectives often reserved for great leaders and eloquent speakers.  She had a special gift – but not the one most often credited to her.

It didn’t matter who you were.  Meghna always had a way of relating to you because, in a way, she’d been there with you all along.   She could think like you, so she understood you.  And all because she sought to understand your message – not just heard the words you spoke.  After spending even a brief period of time with her, you’d catch yourself smiling and thinking about how the world needs more people like her.

She told stories - lots of stories that contained beautiful, subtle insights and wisdom.  Here’s one of the last she told me before she died.

Many years ago I got invited to a friend’s party for her coworkers.  Not knowing a single attendee, my anxiety swelled as the party drew near.  I was in-between jobs at the time and had little to impress these aspiring business leaders.

Instead of trying to impress anyone, I decided to spend the evening simply listening to them and summarizing what they’d just said.  That night I listened carefully to everyone, responding with phrases like, “I understand what you’re saying, you feel strongly that. . .” and “Interesting, let me see if I understand what you mean …”  I avoided expressing my own opinions, even though at times it meant biting my tongue to keep from doing so.

I discovered that no one noticed or mentioned the fact that I was just listening.  Each person seemed content to talk without interruption.  After the guests left, my friend (the party’s host) told me that a number of people had made a point of telling her what a remarkable person I was.  Words like “magnetic, articulate, empathetic” were used to describe me even though I was a perfect stranger who rarely spoke.

Meghna’s final story continues to make me think … seldom do we stop just to witness, to observe, to comprehend.  Yet the power of everyday interactions is much greater than we suspect.  We have the power to offer profound healing, comfort, and affirmation, or to create deep wounds.  And all of this depends on one crucial skill: listening.

Could it be that charisma and brilliance have as much to do with how we listen as what we say? Imagine a world where people actually listen to one another, rather than just waiting for the other people to stop talking so they can offer their opinion.

Father God, help me become a much more engaged, attentive listener.  Help me hear what people are meaning to say, not what interpretation I place on their words.  Help me to listen with my heart, not just with my ears.  Amen

When Losing Becomes Winning

“The last shall be first, and the first, last.” ~ Matthew 20:16

As baseball fanatics, we celebrate game-winning plays.  But read this story to the very end.

On the last game of our season, we played under a bright sun on a cloudless, picturesque day.  A lazy breeze wafted out towards center field.

Our Cardinals hadn’t won all season.  We were down to our last out in the last inning of our last game.  But we trailed by only one run.

We had a few excellent players, but Andy just quite couldn't get the hang of the game.  When the umpire yelled, "Batter up!" Andy nearly jumped out of his skin.  Painfully shy, the eight-year old hadn’t hit the ball all season (or catch it for that matter).

With two outs, it was his turn to bat.

Andy swallowed the lump in his throat and looked out at the mound.  The pitcher, who seemed to be several feet taller than him, stood impatiently on the mound with a gloved hand on his hip.

A roar came from about a dozen parents watching from camp chairs when Andy popped a bloop-single that barely cleared the second baseman's reach and landed in short right field.  Safe at first base, he grinned like a possum with a sweet potato as his Dad waved from the stands.

Our next batter was the team’s best slugger.  We fully expected him to blast something deep; maybe even clear the outfield fence.  Finally, we might even win a game.

He didn't let us down.  After taking two inside pitches, he connected a line shot headed towards right field.  With a good jump off first base, Andy saw the ball coming toward him.  In a moment of indecision, he caught it barehanded.

“If a runner intentionally touches a live ball, interference is called, the ball is dead and the runner's out.”  Rule 5.06(c)(6)

Final out.  Game over.  We lost!

Andy clutched the ball, beaming like never before.  It never occurred to him that he lost the game for us.  All he knew was he’d hit the ball and caught it - both for the first time.

Quickly, Coach told us to cheer.

As was customary whether we won or lost, Coach treated us to ice cream after the game.  We gathered as a team for the final time.  What I saw would forever tickle my heart.

There stood Andy, surrounded by our teammates, acting out his big hit with such enthusiasm that I imagined it must’ve been someone else.  Gone was the shy, scared 8-year old … at least for now.

We never told him exactly what happened.  We didn't want to ruin it for him.  Sometimes it’s better to lose and do the right thing.

Lord, make me truthful, honest, and honorable in all things.  Show me the ability to be charitable, forgiving, and patient with others.  Help me to accept and appreciate their shortcomings, even as they understand mine.  Amen

Fire and Rage

“Never fear, for I am always with you; I am your God." ~ Isaiah 41:10

In the summer of his 7^th year, the home Chase had grown up in burned to the ground in the middle of the night.  Luckily everyone escaped … in nothing but their pajamas.

They returned the next morning to find their home resembled something out of a horror movie; twisted plastic and burnt ashes, nothing had escaped the inferno.  The charred remains of their house stood hollow as the soul of a skeleton.

It had been so alive, so vibrant.  Inside had been a place of love and security, a place with memories and warmth.  Gone were his favorite books, his baseball glove (and the trophy from last season), even his laptop.

He sucked at air that’d almost become too difficult to breathe.  He wanted to smash something – but there was nothing left to break.  Normally in times of stress, he’d jam in his earbuds and drown everything out.  Instead he went straight at Mom; kicking and pummeling.

Finally he screamed!  It had a primal intensity that told of urgency and desperation; the raw sound of a child in emotional pain.  When his Dad tried consoling him, Chase fell to the ground crying, pleading with God to help his family.

He looked up to see tears in Dad’s eyes too.  “It’s OK buddy,” he said in a reassuring voice.  “Even though we’re sad, things will get better.  We’ll get through this together.”

Chase stood up and turned to face a gathering crowd.

But these weren’t gawkers … but the faces of friends, church members, and a community who arrived with support to help them get back on their feet.  A neighbor offered the use of an empty rental house they owned a few blocks over for “as long as they needed.”

While their home still smoldered, a local business was established as a drop-off spot for donations.  Dad received checks and cash right there on the spot.  Neighbors they barely knew, offered furniture, clothes, and even toys and books for the children.  Over the weeks that followed, others called, sent care packages and wrote loving cards and emails.

Meanwhile Dad had returned to blackened wreckage to see what he could salvage.  The only thing he found was Mom’s wedding rings.  The plastic case she’d put them in that night had melted around them and shielded them from the flames.

It took Chase a while but he finally understood that God had answered his prayer.  He’d watched over and helped his family through the loving hearts of those around them.  God revealed that when you have nothing left but love … you see that love is enough.

Friends, may you always have “Enough” for all the days of your life.

Thank You Lord, for the many people I’ve met on this life’s journey.  Some of them inspire, me stretch me, challenge me, love me and encourage me.  They all help me to realize how meaningful and wonderful my life is.  Please grant their prayers too.   Amen

A Lesson For the Ages

“Forgive one another, just as God forgave you." ~ Ephesians 4:32

The small shop sold snacks, drinks, and other convenience items on the same corner for over five decades.  But lately, it’d become a magnet for local petty thieves.

Its longtime owner, Margie, sat unremarkably behind the counter reading cheesy romance novels when business dragged.  She wasn’t the kind you’d pity with her old bones and feeble limbs, but the kind who could still run an army kitchen given a chance.  Always quick with a joke, Margie knew most customers by name and treated all her visitors with equal respect.

Danny and his friend Miguel had it down to a science.  They’d search for stores where the shelves were lined up in such a way that it was difficult for the cahier to watch them.

They always went in pairs.  Miguel would take his time preparing a Slurpee from the drinks counter while Danny would stuff a backpack full of “saleable” goods that they could sell after school.  They even nicknamed their practice "finger-painting," a combination of having quick fingers and being caught red-handed.  After pilfering several desired items, they’d leave a store giggling and exchanging rebellious glances of teenage arrogance.

Today they weren't nearly as clever as they thought.

When Marge noticed the unfamiliar kids stealing, she didn’t panic.  She simply went over the counter and locked the front door.  Obviously, they hadn’t intended to pay for the ill-gotten gains.  It became equally apparent that they weren’t going anywhere.

Margie’s piercing eyes settled on them.  “Seems to me you have but two choices,” she began.  “You can wait for the cops to take you into custody, or you can put all the stuff back on the shelves.”

Their confidence retreated like a rollercoaster falling backwards.  Clearly not what they’d expected, the boys quickly did as she requested.

They were nearly finished when the police arrived.  Margie unlocked the door and explained that everything had been taken care; no need for their assistance, and went back to her reading.

How quickly most of us would seek punishment for those who commit a crime like larceny.  If we look deeper, however, we just might see people that simply need to be shown the right path.

Compassion isn't always easy, but we're all on this earth together, so we can't just help those that keep good behavior.  Kids who commit such crimes are often some of those that need help with the most basic spiritual and human principles, such as right and wrong.

Sure, we need to keep order and hold others accountable for misbehaviors.  But sometimes less is more … a good, kind example is more effective than harsh punishment.  Certainly, Christ was more effective by preaching responsible behavior than responding to irresponsible conduct.

Forgiving Lord, Your mercy flows to me in spite of my faults and failures.  If I can be forgiven, so can others. Help me demonstrate that kind of love even to those who disappoint and hurt me.  Amen