Egyptian Mother

According to every reputable source available, four in ten births in America are to unwed mothers. That boggles my mind! I don't profess to know all of  the many reasons behind this societal change. Sometimes couples need more time to develop their relationship and their bank account before tying the knot. Sometimes there was never an intention to marry, especially now that the era of “shotgun weddings” appears to be history. Then too, often these births occur among women in their 20’s and 30’s who are independent and resourceful enough to raise a child on their own.

I think many of these moms could use some help every now and then. Semester after semester I teach young women whose “baby daddies” have moved on, leaving them to provide food, clothing, shelter, medical care, and TLC for the little ones. That’s where the rest of us can step in. There are thousands of children who need love and guidance and maybe a few extra material things too. They need someone who can provide things that their mothers don’t have time or resources for.

Thinking about this sociological phenomenon reminds me of a woman in the Bible who raised one of the most influential men in all history, a man whom the Lord knew “face to face.” This man was Moses, and the woman who raised him was Pharaoh’s daughter. Jochebed was his biological mother, and she trusted God enough to hide the infant Moses by the river’s brink when he was three months old. Had she not done so, he would likely have been killed.

Remember the story? Pharaoh’s daughter and her maidens went down to the river so that she could bathe, and while there, she spied the baby. When she looked at him, he cried, and she had compassion for the little one. Although she knew he was a Hebrew child and that all Hebrew baby boys were to be killed, she made arrangements to “adopt” him as her own.

Months passed, and according to the story in the second chapter of Exodus, Jochebed nursed him and then brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter. “And the child grew, and she brought him unto Pharaoh’s daughter, and he became her son. And she called his name Moses: and she said, Because I drew him out of the water.” (Verse 10) Although Jochebed’s heart was probably heavy that day, she knew what had to be done to save her son’s life.

Even though she was Pharaoh’s daughter, to me it seems that she took a big chance in raising him in the palace. Would he be recognized as Hebrew and not Egyptian? Was she single? If so, would there be gossip about the child's father? If married, what sort of understanding did she and her husband reach about Moses? Would her father not notice the child and have him killed? I don’t know much about the status of women during that era, but I don’t think being a princess was quite as exalted a role as it later became. She could have lost her life too!

Because of his life in the palace, Moses had advantages that would prepare him to eventually lead his people out of Egypt. Just imagine the education he received as a member of the royal household compared to the one he would have received had he stayed with his birth family. Plus, he learned firsthand about Egyptian culture, knowledge that would surely come in handy later in his life.

While this story occurred centuries ago, it has application to today’s world. I’m not a member of a royal household, but there are things I can do for children whose mothers are stressed and whose resources are stretched to the max. I can babysit, donate money to a women’s shelter, or even buy school supplies. The mothers we help don't necessarily have to be single either. Married moms have their share of challenges, even those with financial resources. They need support too.

I’m a grandmother and too old to adopt a child, but there are younger, more energetic people who could do so. I’ve read that many people who want to adopt a child would prefer one of their same race and/or ethnicity. But Moses was a Hebrew, and his mother was an Egyptian. Look how she changed his life!

Watch Out!

I love my little grandchildren! In fact, I dote on them so much that I’ve picked up my friend Connie’s moniker of “granddarlings” when describing them. When I’m near them, I have a tendency to overindulge them, and when I’m away from them, I fret unnecessarily about whether they’re eating enough veggies and drinking enough milk.


I know that most grandmothers feel the same love and concern for their posterity as I do, and it makes me wonder why there aren’t more of them mentioned in the Bible. I could be wrong, but I think Lois is the only one. She’s Eunice’s mother and Timothy’s grandmother. She must have been quite a woman of faith to have been so influential in his life, and Paul praises her in a letter to Timothy, “When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice.” (II Timothy 1: 5)

I’m not claiming to have Lois’s spiritual stature. I'm just saying that a recent incident reminded me of just how influential I and other grandmothers can be.

My granddaughter Olivia had her first birthday last month, and she and her parents celebrated at my house. Using my iPhone, I took several short videos, and after viewing my favorite several times, I had the conversations and movements of my three granddaughters memorized. Only then did I begin zeroing in on the voice in the background, mine. As I followed the birthday girl and her pretty cousins from room to room, I constantly gave them warnings and instructions…in a loving way, of course.

As the video begins, Olivia is walking steadily across the kitchen, and as she nears the refrigerator, her gait is a bit wobbly, and it looks as though she might lose her balance. But no, she recovers quickly and moves towards the study. As she does so, the tiny tot realizes that there’s a threshold, a raised one that she must navigate. She puts her hand on the wall to steady herself and then takes a tentative step. In the background, Grandmama says, “Watch out, watch out. Be careful, Little One.”

A moment later, she’s rushing toward the kitchen again, this time with Brooke and Emma behind her. Once they’re all in the kitchen, Emma hugs her little cousin and when she releases her, Olivia falls. Undeterred, she immediately gets up and begins that race walking speed of hers. In the background, Grandmama says, “That’s right. Just get right back up and get going again.”

She heads to the bathroom and stares in through the open door. Remembering that she had locked herself in there earlier in the afternoon, Grandmama says to Brooke and Emma, “Watch out for her. She’s already locked herself in there once.” Her cousins do as instructed and rescue Olivia who then runs toward the study again. Once there, she plops down on the floor and pulls down a cookbook to look at. Grandmama can be heard in the background making a comment about reading.

In slightly over a minute, Grandmama has given some important life lessons:

• Watch out, especially when you’re walking over a threshold from one area of your life to another.
• Be careful.
• Get back up when you fall.
• Watch after each other.
• Delve into the books.

I’m not of shooting for the “Lois Award.” I’m just trying to be a good grandmother, and that short video shows that I’m on the right track. If a grandmother can say that much in slightly over a minute, just think what she (we) could do over a child's lifetime!

What about you? Are you a grandmother who’s involved in your grandchildren’s lives? Are there lessons that you're teaching by word and deed?

Waiting and Watching

Mothers spent a lot of time watching and waiting. An instance that comes to mind this afternoon is of an evening when I sat outside in a cold car waiting for my son Paul to come out of the warm church building so that we could go home. Well, the car wasn’t actually cold since I had the heater turned on. It was the outside that was frigid, and the longer I sat there watching him and his friends having a super time inside of the warm, lighted building, the more annoyed I became.

I had things to do! There were unwashed dishes in the sink, clothes to iron, and classes to prepare for! When in the world was he ever going to come out?! Dressed in the sweat pants I’d earlier jogged in, I didn’t feel comfortable going inside to get him, especially since I’d exchanged my Nikes for some fluffy bedroom shoes. I decided to call my mother and whine a little bit. Surely she’d commiserate with my plight. Wrong! A wise woman, she listened to my complaint and simply said, “He’s worth waiting for.” I felt as though I’d been slapped and hugged at the same time! She was absolutely right. He was well worth waiting for, and he was inside of a church building for crying out loud (a phrase she might have added).

Part of what mothers are supposed to do is watch and wait. And yet what I did is minimal when compared to the vigil of a woman I just learned about this week. Her name was Rizpah, and you can read all about her in II Samuel 21:2-14. Although she’s not a major player like some of the other Old Testament mothers, her story is certainly one worth telling.

A concubine of Saul, Rizpah had two sons named Armoni and Mephibosheth. At some point before his death, Saul had ordered the slaying of some Gibeonites, and now these people were demanding retribution. King David was anxious to appease them because he felt it would end a three-year famine. Unfortunately, the Gibeonites didn’t want money; they wanted blood, the blood of seven of Saul’s descendents. Two of these young men were the sons of Rizpah, and the other five were sons of Michal, Saul’s daughter.

David handed these seven over to the Gibeonites to be slain as human sacrifices. After the slaying, their bodies were not buried as was the custom of the day, but were left to the elements. Rizpah knew she had to take a stand not only to protect their bodies from birds and beasts but also to influence David to bury them. Bold and faithful, she basically took sackcloth, spread it on a rock, and sat there keeping watch from the beginning of barley season until nearly six months later, from April to October. Eventually, King David heard of her tenacious loyalty and buried what was left of the seven bodies. Only then did Rizpah leave the rock.

Compare Rizpah’s wait to mine. She sat on a rock and braved the elements in all sorts of weather for SIX MONTHS. What did she eat? Did friends come and visit her and offer social support? Did she bathe, change her clothes, sleep? I waited 20 minutes in the comfort of my car while I watched my very alive son enjoy his friends inside of a warm building. Rizpah’s sons were dead. I called my mother; Rizpah didn’t call anyone. The very thought of her using a cell phone is weird. As far as we know, she was totally alone.

I’m not sure what we’re supposed to get from the story, but I know it’s in the scriptures for a reason. I’m thinking that although it isn’t always easy, mothers have to take a stand. We have to watch and wait and shoo away all the vultures that might attack our children, and we need to do it by night and by day.

Rizpah loved her children with a fierce love, and her behavior showed valor and loyalty. She was a person of no power, a concubine, and yet her actions moved a king to do the right thing and bury the remains of the bodies. Not coincidentally, after the burial, the rains came.

What are some applications of this story to your life today?

The Better Part

I think the highlight of my 2011 Spring Break was an Easter party that I attended in Rincon, GA yesterday afternoon. The event reminded me that I have way too much Martha in me. Seriously, I could almost hear the Savior whispering, “Martha, Martha,” and that’s what prompted me to go.

My purpose for going to Rincon was to see the changes in my daughter’s house and to help her with de-cluttering, cleaning, or watching after her four children so that she could paint, organize, or do whatever else she needed to do in order to get her home and psyche in order for Seth. He’s the baby who will arrive in July, and for the last few weeks, Carrie has been gearing up for his birth. Her daughters now have their bedroom upstairs, and the boys have been moved to the former girls’ room, thus leaving a bedroom free for baby Seth. Plus, the children have new twin beds and the cool bedding to go with them.

Upon arrival, I found Carrie washing dishes and Rich power washing the outside of the house. Within seconds, I could see that even washing dishes was a challenge because of the constant interruptions and needs of the children. I then learned that we only had a couple of hours because Carrie and the kids had been invited to a birthday party. “Go ahead,” I told her. “I can tackle things here on the home front much easier with an empty house.”

The moment the van left the garage, Susie Homemaker swung into action. I cleaned the children’s bathroom, vacuumed the carpet, mopped the kitchen floor and was in the middle of washing, drying, and folding clothes when the crew arrived home from the party. The children showed me their goodies, and the girls asked me to help them make friendship bracelets. I wanted to, and yet I felt determined to finish the laundry. “In a minute,” I promised.

The children began talking about the Easter party scheduled for that same afternoon, and I told Carrie to go ahead and take them. “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I still have another load of laundry to fold.”

“Why don’t you go with us?” Carrie asked.

“Well, you know I have to get back to Camden before dark, and I just don’t know if I can finish what I’ve started AND go to the party.”

No reply from Carrie. Then for the third time, Brooke asked, “Grandmama, will you please help me with my bracelet now?”

Truly and sincerely, I heard, “Martha, Martha,” and within seconds, Brooke and I began working on her bracelet. I looked across the table at my tired daughter who was trying to summon the energy for the party and announced that yes, I thought it might be fun to go to a party.
We all piled in the van and rode to one of the most memorable Easter parties I’ve ever attended. The yard was beautiful with flowers, scrubs, goldfish ponds, an arbor, shade trees, and swings. Colton loved the latter; in fact, he made a beeline for a small swing, and except for the times when he was chasing balloons or devouring cupcakes, we knew where to find him.

I looked around, and my heart felt full. When did Braden grow so tall? And then, my granddaughters’ heads were easy to spot as the sun shone on the braids I had woven in their hair before the party. Brooke came over to where I was sitting on a wall enjoying some lemonade and recited the Pledge of Allegiance for me. Braden showed me where his new tooth was coming in. Emma showed me an angry red spot on the top of her foot where a “mosquito ant” had bitten her. Colton’s balloon popped, and undaunted, he marched right over to a clothesline where several were hanging and let the man in charge know that he wanted another one NOW.

There was a toddler there with pretty red hair. And Kim’s little daughter with her stretchy red headband was adorable. I met someone named Shirley who described some lovely places in Washington, thus increasing my desire to stop there when we go to Alaska next year. I also met a man who teaches at a prison, and I observed my sweet daughter conversing with several friends, thus assuring me that although her mama isn’t close by, she’s still being looked after. I ate a chocolate cupcake from LaNae’s table after decorating it with chocolate icing, and then I ate a Ball Park frank.

I sauntered over to the two goldfish ponds and saw these huge colorful fish swimming around and around and around in the pools. Leaning over one pond was one of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen, and he was trying to catch one of the fish. He looked up at me long enough to say that he was going to catch one to take home to put in his goldfish bowl because his fish had died.

Sounds of laughter, conversation, and squeals of delighted children were all around me. And lest I forget, there was music, including “Here Comes Peter Cottontail.” The kids went on an egg hunt, and they all came back with full baskets of plastic eggs and treats. All that and more I would have missed if I’d stayed in my Martha mode. Instead, I chose the “better part,” and today I much richer for it.

A Little Maid

I’m not good with children. Really, I’m not. I can love them and play with them and read to them, but teaching them is another story. That’s why I was a bit hesitant to substitute for one of the Primary teachers last Sunday. However, after reminding myself of the wonderful leaders and teachers who taught my three children when they were young, I agree to do it. After all, what kind of world would this be if no one volunteered to give time, energy, and guidance to the generations of the future?

That said, I’m sure glad that I said yes. Not only did I gain some insights into a fairly well-known Bible story, but I also got better acquainted with a wonderful group of children from ages 10-12. The story came from the II Kings, Chapter 5, and although I had a couple of activities and relevant stories to augment the lesson, I didn’t really need them because the children were so engaged…and engaging.

In brief, the story was about a great military leader, Namaan, who despite his victories and prestige, had a serious problem: leprosy. His wife had a “little maid” who had been captured by one of Namaan’s companies and brought back to Syria. One day she mentioned to Namaan’s wife that it would be so good if only he could meet Elisha, “the prophet in Samaria” because she was confident that Elisha could cure the leprosy. The wife apparently trusted this young maid because before you knew it, Namaan was asking the king to let him go to see Elisha. The king readily agreed, telling Namaan to go and sending him off with a letter to the king of Israel.

Elisha’s instructions to Namaan were simple, so simple in fact that Namaan was “wroth,” especially since they were delivered by a messenger and not Elisha himself. His servants prevailed upon him to do as Elisha told him to do, however, and after dipping himself in the Jordan River seven times, his leprosy was gone. He was clean, cured of the dreaded disease. Grateful, Namaan attempted to reward Elisha, but the latter refused any compensation, instead telling Namaan to “go in peace.” Gehazi, Elisha’s servant was not so scrupulous, but that’s a story for another day.

While most people probably read this story and think of Elisha and Namaan as being the prinicipal players, I keep thinking of the little maid. Not only was this young person (the children and I speculated about her age but never reached a consensus) kind enough to speak up to her mistress and tell her about Namaan, but she did so despite being captured and brought to his residence from Israel. I don’t know enough about her or about the history of the era to know whether this was “standard operating procedure,” but I do know that she was young and living away from her people. Still, she spoke up about the prophet of God, thereby saving a man’s life.

The lesson manual asked these questions that I’d never considered before Sunday: What does this tell us about this faithful Israelite girl? How can our faith help others? The children had plenty to say about the little maid and gave several examples of how they could say and do lots of different things to point people in the direction of God and His servants. What particularly touched me was how they realized that they, like the Israelite girl, could influence their parents, siblings, and maybe even teachers and other adults.

What about you? If a child can influence others by her actions (or his) what can we do?

The Blind Side's Virtuous Woman

I keep thinking about a movie I saw Thanksgiving afternoon, The Blind Side. Starring Sandra Bullock, the movie chronicled the life of a family who “took in" a young black man and made him a part of their family. That’s actually an understatement. They loved him, taught him, took up for him, and included him in all aspects of their daily lives. Plus, they got involved in his life and nurtured and mentored him in sports and academics. In case you’re thinking that this was just another sappy, sentimental movie perfect for the holidays, think again. This movie is based on reality, and this family really exists. They live in Memphis, Tennessee. And the young black man? Well, he’s Michael Oher who plays for the Baltimore Ravens of the NFL.

What I’m leading up to is that the mother, Leigh Anne Tuohy, is like no one I’ve ever known. If anyone fits the description of the virtuous woman described in Proverbs, she does. Honestly, I know of no other woman who has willingly extended herself to that degree to another person, much less a homeless, impoverished young man from the other side of the tracks. Heck, I know women who are not even willing to make sacrifices for their own children, much less a child who is totally “different,” someone who’s a “project from the projects.” Nevertheless, Leigh Anne did. She gave him the basics of a bed, food, clothing, and then she set out to consult with his teachers, coach, and biological mother. She was “there” for him at practices and games and any other situation that a mother should be. Actually the entire family was involved, but it was the mom who was the catalyst behind everything from getting him off the rainy street to signing with Ole Miss.

So now Leigh Anne Tuohy is one of my new role models. I’m not as big hearted, generous, or influential as she is, and I suspect that you might not be either. However, there is something that each one of us can do for another person to make his or her life better, and I think that’s what our Creator expects us to do. He expects us to extend love to others at all times and in all places, but at this time of the year, it seems especially important.

So I don’t know about you, but as for me and my house, we’re committing to at least one extraordinary act of kindness every day of this special holiday season. I’ll never be Leigh Anne, and I feel totally inadequate when compared to the virtuous woman in Proverbs, and yet there’s something I can do. And there’s something you can do too. Let’s commit to it today.

Leaving Home

Some people say that the most defining moment in the Old Testament is when God tells Abram to leave his country, his kindred, and father’s house and go to a land that he will show him. Me, I don’t know. My knowledge is pretty puny about these things. What’s brought the passage to mind are a couple of young families I’ve been thinking about this past week. Today, instead of writing about women in the Bible, I’m going to write something related to some of Eve’s modern day sisters.

A week or so ago, Anita Ervin began a month of Thanksgiving notes by expressing her gratitude for her family and the life they’re currently living in Oklahoma. I remember when they left with their two young daughters and infant son. How brave they were to be moving across country so that Ben could start his new job. That was well over a year ago, and it seems that everyone is thriving.

Another example would be my oldest daughter Carrie. Married for nearly ten years, she and Rich have lived in four different places, and they currently reside in Rincon, GA. Wherever they’ve moved, Carrie has found new friends and made a nice home for her family. I’ve never heard her say, “I’m lonely,” or “I’ll never be happy in this place.” Quite the contrary, she’s adjusted well, and I think part of it is because she knew it was the best thing for the whole family. She knows that her attitude can affect both Rich and her children, and she consequently squared her shoulders and got involved in the community, especially the church and schools.

At the same time, the parents and grandparents of the above families miss them dearly. In my case, it’s only three hours away, and yet with our schedules, sometimes it might as well be three days. Last weekend I had the opportunity to spend some time with one of my brothers and his wife and one of his sons. Becky and I chatted off and on throughout the two days, and one of the things we talked about is how in biblical stories, people lived close to their families. I think what prompted this conversation was thinking about her adult sons and where they would settle. Like most moms, she wants them to stay close by, not next door but not a thousand miles away either.

Speaking of sons, mine lives in Atlanta, four hours from me and over six hours from Amanda’s family. Do I miss him? You bet I do. Sometimes I think that if I don’t see his blue eyes soon, I’ll go bonkers. Still, they’re there for a reason, and I honestly think that living there has helped them grow closer as a couple. Then there’s the graduate school thing, a puzzle piece to whatever God has in store for him.

All this got me thinking about Abraham and how he left Haran for Canaan. Does that mean that “kids” need to get out of their fathers’ houses in order to find their own way? Would we have ever heard of Abraham if he’d been recalcitrant and said NO? God might have found another to be the father of many nations, but that’s not what happened. What happened is that the family left their home of origin, and well, you know the rest of the story.

So I guess as a mother and grandmother, my job is to raise children and turn them over to God. If their paths lead to faraway Canaan, then I’ll have to accept the fact that perhaps it’s for their own growth. Is that what you read into this story too? Or am I seeing things that aren't there?

Scared Heart?

I’ve been listening to Sue Monk Kidd’s The Mermaid Chair on CD, and one of the few things that I like about this book is one of Jessie’s memory of a conversation she once had with her daughter. As a child, her daughter Dee thought the church Mary of the Sacred Heart was really Mary of the Scared Heart. Jessie, the mom, is remembering that conversation years later and thinking about whether Mary was scared or not. After all, she thinks, “scared heart” might just as much sense as “sacred heart.”

Amanda’s having a baby. She’s my daughter-in-law, and I’m super excited about this baby. I don’t even know this little one yet, the tiny fetus that we’re referring to as Baby C, and yet I’m already thinking about him or her. Amanda saw the little one actively swimming about during her sonogram Monday, and she excitedly told me about how he or she was moving its little “nubs,” future arms and legs. Is it a boy or a girl? Will the baby be tall, short, blue-eyed, curly-haired, athletic, scientific, musically inclined, a great dancer???

While I’m excited, I can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety from time to time. Will Amanda’s pregnancy and labor be smooth and uneventful? Will Baby C have all ten fingers and toes? While I know that it's coming to a home with parents “kind and dear,” will they know how to handle a colicky baby? One of my students missed a test today because her baby is in the hospital with a fever of 104. What if that happens to Paul and Amanda’s baby?

All of this (and more) has got me thinking more about Mary. Was she scared? She surely had reason to be. She was a child by some standards, probably no older than 16. Plus, as far as I can determine, it’s not as though she had the love and support of her parents. Elisabeth seems to be the only person she felt comfortable enough to confide in, at least at first. Eventually she had to face Joseph, her betrothed. Do you think she was scared to tell him? I do. She had had a visit from Gabriel, but so far Joseph had not. Here she is an unmarried teenager without support or encouragement, and she’s having a baby. Don’t you know the town gossipers had a heyday with that? There weren’t hospitals around either. The longer I think about this, the more I realize that indeed she may have been petrified. Yes, the angel had said, “Be not afraid,” but still….

Here's the scariest part (to me): Mary was carrying the literal Son of God, the Savior of the world. Can you even imagine such a feeling? I can’t. Amanda is carrying a child of God, and while I know there may be times when she too might feel a little fearful or anxious, she has the love and support of family and friends. She also lives in a time and place where there’s the best medical care possible. Oh, and of course there’s the fact that she’ married to Paul, a man who will surely magnify his role as a father.

Jochabed & Missionary Moms

The Camden Ward now has at least three young men serving missions, two of whom are still in the MTC (Missionary Training Center). I KNOW how their mothers feel, for I too have felt that hole in my heart. It’s especially huge and gaping right after the missionary’s departure, but truly, it does heal somewhat as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months. There are the weekly emails, the encouraging words from friends and family, and the knowledge that your child is willing to sacrifice two years of his young life to “go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded.”

Thinking of these three young men (Zachary, Campbell, and Tony) and their mothers reminded me of several things I wrote while my son Paul was serving his mission in Mexico. With these M.O.M.s (Mothers in Missionaries) in mind, I’ve decided to copy and paste this excerpt from my book.

Exodus 2: 3-5
“And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the river’s brink. And his sister stood afar off to wit what would be done with him.”

Imagine Jochabed’s anxiety as she placed her infant son in a basket and placed him in the Nile. Knowing that her son Moses was meant to be murdered left her no recourse but to trust in God’s protection and care, and yet she couldn’t (or didn’t) watch as he drifted away among crocodiles with his sister Miriam watching. How hard it must have been to leave her son adrift in the river! God kept Moses safe in his basket until he was discovered and adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter, an act that would allow him to receive an education and upbringing that would make him more effective as a prophet and leader of a nation.

While mothers aren’t customarily required to send their sons away down the Nile to save their lives, at some time children drift down the rivers of life to live among crocodiles, sharks, and other dangerous creatures. As I pondered this scripture, I remembered Brother Reynolds’ words in a Sacrament meeting as he told of his prayer when his son left on his mission: “God, I’m giving you the best thing I have: my son. Please comfort him, lead him, protect him, and bring him back home safely to us.” Not only will our Heavenly Father protect our missionaries, but He will also allow them to get the sort of education that will prove invaluable in their future lives. The virtues of faith, responsibility, and service will forever be a part of their character.

Turning Them Over

I’m thinking of my old friend June today. Whenever I’d share some concern that I had about one of my children, she’d often chide me and ask, “Jayne, have you turned your children over to God?” I’d try to convince her that yes, of course I had, but she wasn’t buying it. It was almost as if I’d turned them over but somehow continued thinking that He needed my interference.

I’m not sure how I feel about this issue. I do think that God sends each mother the children she’s meant to raise, if only for a season. In the process, He trusts us to do the best we can to love, nurture, and guide them. It’s an awesome responsibility, and although it was one that I gladly accepted, I still don’t know how much and how long to stay involved. When should a mother back off and “let go and let God?”

If only things were as clear-cut as they were with Hannah. Remember her? She’s the woman who wanted a child so badly that as she fervently prayed for one, Eli saw her and mistakenly thought she was drunk. She assured him that she was completely sober and was praying that God would send her a male child. If that happened, she would willingly turn the child over to God. Eli told her to go in peace and promised Hannah that her petition would be answered. Soon thereafter, Samuel was born, and when he was still a young child, Hannah brought him to Eli and left him there.

I don’t know if she saw Samuel much after leaving him in the temple with Eli. I only know that I’m not quite as trusting, giving, or selfless as Hannah was. I think God entrusted my children to me and that He intends for me to take that trust seriously. At the same time, I’m wondering if this story of Hannah and Samuel has a latent meaning for me, for us. What do you think?

Learning Wisdom

Seems that I’m always writing “on the fly.” Although I have tons of ideas, my time to blog is limited, thus leaving me with whatever I happen to be thinking of at the moment. Today I’m thinking that while the underlying purpose of this blog is to discuss women of the Bible and the contributions they made and the lessons we can learn from them, today I’m thinking of a different twist on this.

A couple of months or so ago, I participated in a Bible study that dealt with Esther, and I was amazed at the treasure trove of precious truths I took away from those few evenings. Now we’re studying the book of Proverbs in a study based on Beth Moore’s “Wising Up.” So far I’m enjoying it just as much as the Esther study. For instance, a couple of weeks ago, I learned that a wise woman is a former fool, exercises patience, is not easily annoyed, makes amends, and knows that God’s way is life’s ultimate way. After watching the DVD, Amanda, the facilitator, led a discussion about just how important our words are. Very powerful, our words can heal, soothe, upset, anger, inspire, separate, motivate, or instruct.

Here’s an example that I shared, one that seems just as pertinent today as it did 15 or so years ago when the situation took place. My daughter Carrie was a teenager at the time, and she was as intent on having her way and her say as I was on having mine. Around and around we’d go with our “heated discussions,” and one she said something like, “Mama, I can never win an argument with you. You’re older and know more words, so why should I even try to talk to you about things?”

While some parents might think, “Aha, it’s about time you learned that valuable lesson, Young Lady,” that’s not how I perceived this. Instantly, I saw that my constant desire to be the PARENT in charge of her every move was not working. Nor was her wish to be a fancy free teenager coming and going as she pleased. Something had to give.

About that time I read a book by Marianne Williamson that pretty much nailed our situation. She said that whenever she found herself in a position in which she knew she could win an argument, debate, or conflict of any sort, she had begun to ask herself what was more important, victory or peace. Admittedly, winning is NICE. The problem is that the victorious feeling is short-lived, and meanwhile, you might have seriously damaged your relationship with the other person.

Is that what I wanted? To win? To let my daughter know once and for all who was boss? I wanted peace, peace for both of us…for the entire family. I’m not suggesting that parents remove all restrictions and let children do whatever they want to do whenever they want to do it. I’m saying to ask yourself if there’s a way to find peace without fighting all the time, a way to find peace without always “besting” the other person. Sometimes we might have a bigger vocabulary, more experience, a higher position, or the gift of being more articulate. Is it right to use those capabilities to win?

Truthfully,I’d like to win and to have peace too, but that isn’t always possible. I count the cost and then decide, and nine times out of ten, I go for peace. Hands down. It’s a better, more satisfying feeling. Again, I’m not saying to give away the proverbial farm; I’m just saying to count the cost and “wise up.”
Can you think of a situation when you wish you’d have been a bit wise with your words?