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!

Amazing Grace

My sister went to a Bible study last week, and Hagar was the topic. You remember her, right? She was Sarah’s servant, the one Sarah “gave” to Abraham so that he/they could have a son. Once while Hagar was expecting and then later when the child was much older, Sarah told Abraham to get Hagar out of her sight. Was she jealous? Angry? I don’t know. I just know that twice the “bondswoman” was banished to the desert, and twice God called her by name and told her what to do.


To Sarah, she was a servant. Apparently (although I could be misinterpreting this), Abraham felt the same way. To God, however, she had a name and a destiny. He was very much aware of her dire circumstances when He spoke to her and told her what to do to save her own life and that of her child’s. Hagar listened.

“Don’t you get it?” my sister Ann asked. “God knew her by name, just like he knows all of us.”

I’ve been thinking of Hagar off and on all week and of how we all have names and missions. We’re not all aware of our gifts and opportunities, however. Maybe we have too much of a bondswoman’s mentality and don’t realize our divine worth. Or then maybe we just don’t listen when He speaks.

When I saw Oprah’s final show on Wednesday, I couldn’t help but think of how that lady has always listened to His voice. I wish I’d watched Oprah more often. Because of work and general “busyness," I never had the opportunity to sit and watch a single show all the way through until Wednesday. Sure, I’ve seen bits and pieces of Oprah over the years, and I’ve often pored over her magazine. And I loved her performance in The Color Purple. Her star quality shone through in Beloved too. My friend Jeanita and I even talked about going to Chicago and trying to get on her show. It never happened, and now it’s too late.

It’s not too late, however, to learn more about this remarkable woman and the gifts she has given to the world. I’m not just talking about cars and scholarships. I’m talking about wisdom, hope, and encouragement. As a friend of mine commented the other day, “Say what you will about Oprah. She’s done more than any human I’ve ever known to share love and largesse.” Martha’s right, of course. Oprah’s generosity of spirit and pocketbook are unparalleled.

As I watched her on stage Wednesday, beautiful and stylish in her pink dress and heels, I marveled at her strength, determination, and intellect. What is it that sets her apart from the rest of us? In addition to her phenomenal gifts, I think it’s also the hand of God AND her awareness of it. I loved it when she acknowledged His constant presence and guidance in her life. He’s there for all of us, even if we don’t know it...or if we know it but don’t give Him credit.

This morning I went online to read a little more about Oprah, and I saw a video clip of Stedman who surprised her at a gala the other night. He walked on stage and basically said, “It really does amaze me that I get to be around a woman who changes peoples' lives every day and who also takes her own lunch to work. I cannot, honey, believe that a colored girl from the backwoods of Mississippi has done all that you have done ... I love you for making a difference in my life."

Stedman then told her something that they both knew, that she’s done it all through God’s amazing grace. She might have some time in the desert, but Oprah, like Hagar, recognized and listened to God’s promptings. Don’t you think it would work for the rest of us? I’ll never be a star, but I know He knows my name.

Which is Harder?

Time is short this morning since my to-do list  is rather lengthy. Yes, even on MLK day, there are things to accomplish. True, the items are walking on the beach, reading my Kindle, and joining one of my daughters for lunch, and while those activities aren't exactly the same as "barges to load and bales to lift," they’re of great importance to me. But I digress.

At church yesterday, we were discussing sacrifice, and of course several Bible stories were included as examples. Time prohibits the discussion of all of them, so I’m including three of the primary ones.
First is the story of Abraham’s willingness to kill his beloved son Isaac. Remember, he and Sarah were advanced in years when this child entered their lives. Abraham was 100! You know his heart was hurting all the way to Mount Moriah where he finally tied his son down, ready to do what God had bidden. At the last moment, an angel intervened, and Isaac's life was spared. I’ve often wondered if Sarah knew where her husband and only son were heading when they left the homestead that morning.

Then there was the story of the rich young ruler who wanted to follow Christ. He was apparently a good man who followed the commandments. However, when Christ told him that he’d have to give up everything that he owned, he couldn’t do it. Could you??? I’m not even rich, and I don’t think I could do it. I mean, everything????

And finally there’s the story of the widow’s mite. She literally gave everything she had. What faith! What trust she had to sacrifice everything for the Lord. While I’ve always admired her sacrifice, I must admit that I’ve also felt a bit uneasy with the story, primarily because I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could give up everything.

In two of the three stories, the principal characters were willing to sacrifice BIG TIME. In the other, the rich ruler was willing to live a life of integrity but he simply could not give up his material possessions. While we were all pondering Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, someone brought up the question of whether it was harder for a rich person to sacrifice everything than for a poor person (like the widow). I voted yes, but several people disagreed. They felt it would be far more difficult for a poor person since she had so little to begin with.

I’m not trying to settle an argument. There are no right and wrong answers. Both stories are in the Bible, and both are given as illustrations of sacrifice and commitment. It’s been my experience that people who have fewer material possession are often more humble. They seek God’s guidance and inspiration in their daily lives and realize that without Him, they’re sunk. At the same time, many wealthy people forget the sources of their many blessings and think they did it all themselves.

Yes, the above are both overgeneralizations. I’m just wondering what you think. Is it harder for a poor person or a rich person to sacrifice all he or she has? And while we’re on the subject, is sacrificing everything what God expects or is He happy with 10 percent?

Why Phyllis?

I think Dorothea and I had just had lunch at Nacho Hippo at Market Commons Friday when I got an unsettling message from Connie informing me that Phyllis was in ICU in our local hospital. Immediately, my mind conjured up an image of a beautiful woman with long, wavy blond hair and one of the sweetest faces I’ve ever seen. In recent years, she’s been struck with the BIG C, and as a result of the super strong meds, she lost her lovely tresses. I LOVED the way she looked when wearing her short strawberry blond wig, and I told her so on more than one occasion.


“You look so chic,” I’d said to her. “Plus, I can really see just how pretty your face is.”

She conquered the deadly disease, only to have it return with a vengeance, this time in her bones. Over the past several months, I’d seen her health deteriorate until finally she came to church using oxygen and sitting in a wheelchair. She was quieter, and even more serene than she had been prior to becoming sick. She seemed watchful, waiting. I admired her strength and began to feel concern for her two young children.

Saturday morning when I checked my messages on FB, the first was one from Connie informing me that Phyllis had passed away. Incredulous, I tried my best to keep the thought at bay. All day Saturday, I did entirely self-indulgent things with my family to bring in the new year, things like shopping, movie viewing, and dining out, and yet throughout the day, visions of Phyllis entered my mind. One in particular kept coming back, unbidden and a little disturbing. It was the last time I taught in Relief Society, two short weeks ago, and she sat to my right on the front row. She didn’t say anything that day, just listened intently.

Sunday morning, I opted to forgo that one last family get-together and decided to go to the beach instead. Sure hope my Christian friends don’t judge me for this, especially since the last lesson I taught was on keeping the Sabbath holy. I walked on the foggy beach for an hour and a half, and in that time I saw two horses, six dogs, 312 sea birds, and about eight people….and I listened to music on my iPod, especially hymns.

As I walked, I kept asking how this could happen to such as fine person as Phyllis. I actually got some answers, Folks. As I listened to “Where Can I Turn for Peace?” I remembered a story that Phyllis once told. She had received some disturbing family news and had passed a sleepless night. A master gardener, she arose early and went to her garden to work. She worked amongst her plants, and while pondering the news and praying for peace, she began to think, “Things will be fine. Everything will work out.” Remembering that story brought some solace.

Still, I couldn’t get her off of my mind. I just couldn’t understand how such a wonderful wife and mother could be taken from her family. Then I thought, “You can’t understand because you’re Jayne, not God. He has His reasons and is still in control here.” At that moment, a couple of verses from Isaiah came to mind, the ones about His ways and thoughts being higher than ours. It’s in Chapter 55, Verse 9: “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Everyone who knew Phyllis will miss her. At the same time, whenever I see her husband and children, remembering where she sought solace will bring some comfort. Plus, the fact that our ways are not God’s ways will bring understanding.

Is It True?

 A friend of mine and I were discussing the previous blog about Noah’s wife, and she expressed some doubt that such an occurrence (great flood) even took place.

“Do you really believe that happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“It’s really kind of farfetched. I mean, what kind of loving God would do that to all the people on the earth? And besides, they’ve never really found evidence of the ark around the mountains of Arafat.”

I told her that it didn’t matter to me whether scientists had found remnants of the ark or not. In fact, it doesn’t matter to me whether the whole story was a complete fabrication. What I do know is that it’s in the Bible and in the Quran and that we can learn some important lessons from it.

• Be obedient to the commandments of God. Treat people fairly and be a just and kindly person.

• If God tells you to do something, do it. This is true even if it seems preposterous and even if other people laugh at you. Don’t you just know that Noah’s neighbors and friends had many a guffaw at their weird neighbor who persisted in building an ark when there was no rain in sight?
• While you’re following His instructions, realize that there is plenty of preparation in planning for a rainy day. While we don’t anticipate another such divine deluge, I know that some rain will fall in everyone’s life, and we need to be prepared. Whether it’s job loss, hurricane, illness, fire, or injury, now is the day to get ready.

• Be grateful for the sunny days in your life, and even though there are storms and wind and rain, just know that they never last. Storms always pass; it’s nature’s way. When the floods recede, you might find yourself with a whole new set of circumstances, probably better ones.

• Whenever you start feeling sorry for yourself, think of how “uncomfortable” Noah’s wife must have been. I get cranky when the dishwasher needs unloading or I have to run to Wal-Mart for laundry detergent. She worked like crazy getting everything ready for the time aboard, taking care of animals, and tending to human needs like food preparation (at least I think she must have). And yet, we don’t even know her name.

So was there really a man named Noah who took his wife, sons, and their wives aboard an ark thousands of years ago? Did that same ark land on Mt. Arafat after months of floating on the rains that covered the earth? I don’t know. Neither do the scientists. Still, it’s a great story with many good lessons. Just wish Mrs. Noah had a name.

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.

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?