Christian Mothers

  Mothers come in various sizes: skinny, filled-out, and ‘oops’.  They are found everywhere: in maternity wards, over ironing boards, teaching three-year olds “Jesus Loves Me”, up and around while the rest of the family is down with the flu, cutting out stone coupons, championing causes, turning right out of the left lane, kissing where it hurts, perspiring over new math, changing her husband’s mind, looking daggers at 
the umpire who has just called her little one out on strikes, popping corn at the school festival, on her knees with an open Bible, taking away privileges, giving back privileges, pushing piano practice, and sitting in a pew crying while her little girl is being married.
  Mothers worry about everything: the war, her daughter’s first date, bike riding in the street, her first gray hair, the baby’s fever, first day at school, her husband’s cholesterol level, her son’s solo drive in the family car, report cards, warmed-over suppers, mistreated children, and too much violence on TV.

  A mother is: happiness with tears in its eyes, love with a firm paddle in its hand, joy watching dad and the kids devour chicken and noodles, sacrifice taking the neck and wings and leaving the breast and drumsticks, foresight stashing away a little extra for college, faith singing in the choir, herding primaries, serving the church dinner, keeping up the pledge, making a call, and sending a box to the missionaries.  

  Being a mother is such a demanding task that God has entrusted it only to females.  There is no experience so costly, so rewarding, so aging, and so exciting as being a mother.
The day can be a fabulous flop complete with a dented fender, a collapsed cake, a six-stitch cut, and upset bowl of chocolate ice cream on the new carpet, daughter emerging from the bathroom with a new hair shade, and the husband coming home and asking, “what have you been doing today?”  

  But, when all is quiet, when dad is home and the baths are over and the homework is done and the prayers are said, Mother takes that one last peek into every bed, and seeing the sweet innocent faces asleep, says guiltily: :How could I have screamed at her today?  How could I have spanked him?”
  And full of faith, hope and love she looks out the window, through misty eyes at the night sky and prays:

     Thank you, Father, thank you for the privilege of being a Mother.
     By your grace and wisdom help me to teach them to love you as I do.
     In the Name of your child, Jesus Christ, I ask. Amen

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