My Many Mothers

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Read and reflect on Titus 2:1,3–5

            …they can train the younger women…. – Titus 2:4 (NIV)

Today is Mother’s Day, the day we honor those women who carried us in their bodies, gave birth to us in pain, hauled us around on their hips, kissed our booboos, cheered for us when we were losing, stood up to the bullies, welcomed our friends (even the ones she knew were dirty rats), protected us when we thought we didn’t need protected, disciplined us when we defied them, sought us when we strayed, released us when we were ready, prayed for us constantly, and loved us unflinchingly even when we were mean, rotten, nasty, and cruel.

They glimpsed in us what we couldn’t recognize, and nurtured the kernel of talent no one else saw. Our dreams became their dreams, and, come hell or high water, they would see to it that we had every opportunity to make them come true. When we fell, they picked us up, dusted us off, and sent us on our way again. Sometimes we thought they were being mean and unreasonable, but when we became parents ourselves, we began to understand.

I have spiritual mothers, too—those older, more experienced women who nurtured me on my faith journey. Who, by their example, taught me what it means to be a Christian woman.           


Mary took me under her wing when I was but a babe in Christ. Her invitation to a Christian Women’s Club luncheon led to Bible studies, service, and Christian friendships that I treasure to this day, over 40 years later.           


Joan (pronounced “Jo-ann”) opened her home—a hive of activity with five daughters—for a Bible study, where I found room to grow. Her words, “I learned to hold the panic in,” were my stay when my husband carried in our five-year-old son wrapped in a sheet, blood streaming from his head. That day I learned not only to “hold the panic in,” but also that cuts to the scalp bleed profusely because of all the hair follicles.           


Caroline’s love of life poured from her generous, servant heart. “If the Lord came today,” she said once, giggling, “I’d tell him I can’t go. I’ve got too much to do!”         

Louise (with hubby Carl)

Louise’s unquenchable zest for life, unflinching faith, and passion for God fueled a life of tireless service. Just remembering her constant smile and hearty laughter blesses me and encourages me to keep on keeping on.     


And, finally, Dorothy. A woman whose love for God, life of prayer, undaunted faith, and kind heart drew me to her like a parched traveler to a fresh mountain stream. When she was diagnosed with advanced cancer, I despaired until I heard what she said: “Don’t give up on me!” What faith!

To paraphrase John Donne, “No woman is an island.” Our lives are an ongoing stream in the course of time, one life touching another, touching another, touching another, on and on, until time is no more.

Whose life has touched yours? Whose life is yours touching?

Thank you, Lord, for the women whose lives have blessed mine. May I, in turn, touch others’ lives for You. Amen.

(C) 2007 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

First Corinthians 13 for Mothers

Photo by Elly Fairytale from Pexels


Though I may speak the jargon of professors, doctors, and ministers, if I can’t speak so that my own children understand me, then all I do is make educated noise.

Even if I was known as a scholar or a person with mountain-moving faith, unless my children could truly say, “Mommy loves me!”, then I am nothing.

And although I save Campbell’s labels for missions, distribute food boxes to the needy, make a dish for a funeral dinner, give used clothing to the local homeless shelter; even though I carry a signed organ donor card, if I don’t lovingly look to the needs of my own children, all other good works will profit me nothing.

I need to be patient with their immature thinking, stupid mistakes, and know-it-all attitudes; and show kindness in the face of whining, arguing, and pouting. I need to love them as they are, not as I expect them to be. I cannot envy the parent whose child is a better scholar, musician, or athlete than I perceive my child to be. Yet neither should I vaunt my own child’s successes, for to do so would put the burden of proof on my child, who will strive to live up to my sometimes unrealistic expectations, and perhaps never feel good enough.

I should not be rude to my children, even in my own home, where I long to let my hair down, not snap at them when I’m feeling tired or pressured. I need to give them the same respect I give others and be considerate of their feelings, their privacy, their possessions, and even (shudder) their rooms!

I should not keep a tally of my children’s wrongs, and then triumphantly flourish it at a time when it’s convenient for me. To gently show them when and why they are wrong is more effective than harsh punishment that doesn’t fit the crime and serves only to crush their spirits. Insisting my way is the only way will stiffen their resistance, but teaching them right from wrong by example and praying for discernment may someday lead to rejoicing when my children follow the truth.

With God’s help I will never give up believing in them, knowing that He who created them has a wonderful plan for their lives and will complete what He started. Even when they respond to the pull of the world, I will rest on the promise that God’s Word never returns void. They cannot stray so far that my love and prayers cannot follow.

Genuine love outlasts parental sermons that they quickly forget. Even if I was able to understand insurance policies and all the legalese in which they are written, what good would it do my children if I had no love for them?

I must remember that I, too, was once a child. What wisdom and knowledge I have now were acquired with painful experience.

I must remember that God alone knows their hearts. I see only the outward appearance and assume way too much. Someday God’s plan for each of their lives will unfold like a beautiful flower, and I will understand the trials that seem so hard to get through now.

Faith, hope, and love are the foundation blocks upon which I build my relationship with my children. But the strongest, most enduring block of all is love.

Read and reflect on 1 Corinthians 13.

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From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea for the Seasons, © 2018 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Used with permission.