It’s just in me… I don’t
know how or why. It just is. No doubt it
drove my little brother crazy. After
all, one mother is about all a little kid needs, right? I realize that now, but
growing up, not so much. I offered my
mothering services often; or should I say I forced
them on the poor boy. Most of the time
he tolerated me till he could make a run for it.
But then came the day his
grade promoted into my children’s church class. Rarely did Rodney get out of
sorts. That was my job! But the minute
he walked in the room, the fear in his big, blue eyes wide without a blink, said
it loud and clear, “I WANT MY SISTER!”
He spotted my blonde bouffant
hairdo (Easy to do since I was the only
second grader with hair bigger than my head. What can I say? My mom was a hairdresser) and made a beeline for my
beehive. My heart skipped a beat. I rarely thought he even liked me, but as he
slipped in real close to the empty seat beside me I felt his shoulders relax.
Maybe he did need another mother…not forever, just for a moment. I would gladly
be that safe place in his scary new world of children’s church. I could do that and I would!
With all this mothering
inside me is it any wonder my destiny included teaching? Students entered my
room in all ages, shapes and sizes, all kinds of God-given gifts and dreams;
and yes, mountains of fears and hurts.
Sometimes their lives read like an open book. Sometimes their hearts resembled a guarded
safety deposit box. I’d ask God for insight on how to love and guide them to become everything He meant for them to be. Most of them belonged
to a mother, but in those hours away from their homes I could contribute to her
mission. I didn’t have all the answers, but I could love and inspire them as
His wonderful creation. I could do that and I would!
My mothering instincts automatically
landed my eyes on the disheveled child plopped in the shopping cart in the
grocery store line. The mother was
clearly living in some form of survival mode. While she barked out commands to
the older children, I made eye contact with the little one coddling a slapped
hand for reaching for a cracker. The
toddler peered up sheepishly as if to say, “Are you going to slap me too?”
I raised my eyebrows and
tilted my head staring deep through her sad eyes. I tossed her a smile hoping it would let her know she is adored and beautiful. I held my breath to see if she’d catch it and
send it back. In an instant, she hurled
me a wide toothy grin. She’s got a legal mother, but maybe I could give her a motherly
glimpse of mercy. Without a word, perhaps I could hint at grace and love. I could do that and I would!
Childless mothering has an
unlikely hero named Mordecai, the uncle of Queen Ester. He had to be both father and mother to the girl. The scripture doesn’t tell us if he had a family
of his own. We only know that he accepted
the role of parent to his orphaned niece.
No, he wasn’t her biological parent, but he accepted that God had put
their paths together. He could love her,
instruct and protect her to the best of his ability. He could do that and he did.
I want to be like Mordecai.
Originally I so hoped to comfort, encourage and demonstrate God’s love to
children of my own. I pictured birthdays, and the tooth fairy; scrapped
knees and bedtime baths and prayers. I
imagined the homemade mother’s day cards accompanied by tiny arms squeezing the
breath out of me, and the vase of dandelions perched on my windowsill. First
dates and graduations, status as Mother of the Bride and Grandma…
But for some unknown reason
that plan didn’t match God’s. So what
did God expect me to do with this ache imbedded deep in my soul: an ache given
by the Creator Himself, no less?
Well, it’s not an easy
conclusion on which to settle, definitely meriting more than a sentence
explanation. However, it is a simple answer.
Love the ones God puts in my path.
Use the nurturing desire God gave me to love
the Esters of the world in their moments of motherlessness. They’re all around us in every church, grocery
store, neighborhood and coffee shop. Sometimes
even in our own homes.
I could do that and by God’s
grace, I will.
Much Love,
Rebecca
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