Rather than a "Silent Sunday" post this week, I am re-posting my blog from Last Mother's Day. I wish you all a blessed day.
My hope is that if I tell my story
clearly enough, I will come to understand its twists and turns, and then
perhaps even its meanings. At the very least, I hope to be able to recognize
some of the places where the Almighty God has been present within it.
~Robert Benson That We May Perfectly Love Thee
When reading the above quote from my morning devotional I knew
beyond a doubt that it was meant for me, to explain in some small fashion why
it is I blog.
I seldom have the “ah ha” moment during the course of an action.
It comes later as an afterthought and it is then I clearly see the hand of God.
It was Mother’s Day, 1990, and as usual the Ohio weather was unpredictable. I remember it
was grey, overcast and quite windy. This
was our last May in Ohio as we were moving to Arizona.
When church was over, the Hubs asked where I wanted to go for
lunch in honor of Mother’s Day. I spontaneously uttered the name of a
restaurant and was met with his look of “Really?” It had never been one of my
favorite places to eat, but I let it stand nonetheless.
A faux waiter was holding the door for patrons as the wind was
wildly reminiscent of March, not May. Once inside the establishment everyone
who appeared to have or would ever excrete estrogen was presented with a
carnation in honor of the Day. The line was long, snaking outside as the
churches were emptying and the hungry saints were gathering for a feast.
Slowly the line proceeded to the register for the American
ceremony of the pay-before-you-eat-everything-you-can-buffet-of-gluttony. Two
steps forward, holding pattern for a few, then another step or two…
As was/is my custom I was observing the people around me. There
were family units that had just come from church standing in their respective
groups of 3, 5, 7 or even more persons. We were a group of three. That’s when I
noticed her standing behind us. Elderly, alone and seemingly calm amid the
crowd of hungry go-to-church-meeting-feed-me-now Christians.
So it began, that anxious rational of, “Where is her family? Is
she meeting someone here? Why is she alone on Mother’s Day?” I even questioned
myself for thinking these things when I asked Husband if he noticed her alone.
“No,” he said, until I had pointed her out. I looked at him with my basset
hound eyes and he said, “What do you want to do?”
I turned and asked her, “Excuse me, are you here with family or
are you meeting someone?” She smiled kindly and said, “No, I’m here
alone.” “Wonderful!” I said. “Would you
consent to being our ‘surrogate mother’ for the day? His mother is in Florida and mine is in Arizona." She agreed and we presently were at
the cash register.
After getting our plates, introductions and blessing the meal we
got to know our guest a bit. She had just returned from Florida to bury her husband. They had no children. She was, in essence, alone.
Yes… that anxious rational… the nudging of the Holy Spirit that
churns in the pit of my stomach. I’ve learned to pay attention. I always have
something more to learn and more tenderness to bathe my heart and spirit in.
With Mother’s Day approaching I thought it might be appropriate to
share this event. I am not sharing this as an “Oh look at me, aren't I just the
most spiritual person you've ever beheld?” No, actually I know that by even
posting this I’ve lost any reward that may have been ascribed, for anything we
do should be done in secret and from a place in the heart that responds to the
leading of the Holy Spirit. Even the thought of a “reward” was not the reason I
responded to this event. It was compassion, it was empathy, it was the leading
of the Holy Spirit.
May you have a blessed Mother’s Day and may you be open to the
Holy Spirit’s discernment!
PS James
1:27
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and
faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to
keep oneself from being polluted by the world.