What is a mother to do? How is it that our gene pool can extend so far as to produce progeny so unlike us, so extraordinarily different, so wired as to cause us to shake our heads in wonder (and bewilderment)ā¦
Not just once this has happened, but by the fifth time a mother should have her response figured out! Nevertheless, here is #5ādefying my innate tendencies, pushing the edges of my cautious hesitance, chomping at the bit to do things that havenāt been done, to try things for which I havenāt paved the way, to go where no Skelton (or Weaver) has gone beforeā¦
What is a mother to do?
Some mothers are gifted with vision and drive and are go-getters themselves. Theyāre ready to champion any cause their child shows interest in, to knock on doors, to lead the way, or at least be outstanding cheerleaders! Others of us can relate more to the wallflower motifā¦the church mouseā¦the sheepish schoolgirl. My husband used to tease me about having grown up in a āsheltered environmentā. I always protested. Now I live happily in his pumpkin; he was right. Fear and self-interest live here too, uninvited but quite at home. But then came Rachel.
Sheās a dreamer of many dreams, of places sheāll live, occupations sheāll hold, ministries sheāll start, impacts sheāll make on her world. She is not the wallflower sort. Her motto is: āStand out; donāt fit in!ā. All she needs is a foothold up, an assist with the nitty gritty details, a place to start. āMom, how do Iā¦ā āMom, what do you thinkā¦ā āMom, arenāt you so excited!āā¦ āMom, when can weā¦ā
For a mother whose favorite pastime is being at home in the predictability of her own routine these questions are all a stretch. Anticipation, excitement and pretty much all things untried and unknown (except maybe trails and ice cream flavors!) are routine killers. They put my mind in overload mode, useless for anything but worry and anxiety.
What happens as I field these questions is that I put myself in her shoes and imagine ME having to do what SHE is cut out for. Once upon a time I held a Candy-striper job at a big General Hospital in my county. I was young and inexperienced then. And yes, sheltered. People smoking was beyond my comfort zone even (which is what coworkers did on breaks in those days). I liked the idea of sorting the internal mail (mundane, orderly, methodical) but doing drop-offs and pick-ups throughout the hospitalā¦ using elevators with silent strangersā¦ going up and down and who-knows-where?…I did not like. To this day I have scary dreams of elevators going not only up and down but side-ways in a disturbing random way, where one never really knows where they are going!
Volunteering and being useful was a nice idea, but finding my way alone to the sundry collection points all throughout the hospital in quest of urine and blood samples for the lab, I did not likeā¦ I was too inexperienced and too myself I guess, to recognize what I needed or to communicate itā¦I didnāt ask for help. I didnāt express my troubles. But one day I mustered enough courage to escape! I walked into the volunteer office and QUIT that bad experience and when my mom picked me up that day, I told her what Iād done and burst out crying, to her (and my) complete surprise. It was left in my mind an unresolved trauma. I still donāt fancy hospitals. And to this day, I donāt think my poor mom has any idea why I quit. For she herself is a go-getter.
And now our roles are reversed and I am the mother with the daughter beyond comprehension. But as I agonized this morning over my unfitness for this job it struck me that without her I would not have to face my fears or shun my self-centeredness. I would be left with myself in my pumpkin–unchallenged, undeveloped, and unchanged. Perhaps this is why God gives us children. Some show us who we are. Others, who we are not. But each one is Godās instrument to shape us into all He wants us to become.
I have a fresh appreciation for Mary and Elizabeth todayā¦each given a child like no other, a child who would so outstrip her achievements as to be incomparable. A child for whom she could not pave the way, only watch and marvel and treasure all the wonder in her heartā¦Even the neighbors wondered what little John would become. Not only did he not take his fatherās name, but he lived an eccentric life besides. It is recorded that people took notice of his birth saying: āWhat manner of child shall this be!ā And the hand of the Lord was with him. (Lk.1:66)
Thatās the key isnāt itā¦ the Lordās hand is at work in these unpredictable wonders that we call our children. Heās with them and for them and using them as His instruments of righteousness for His glory and our wonder!
And tucked in with the gift of each child comes the assurance: āFor with God nothing shall be impossibleā (Lk.1:37) Heās in the details I canāt fathom, and I can rightfully follow Maryās fearless example: āand my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.ā (Lk.1:47) So for today I will rejoiceā¦and get on with that job resume Rachelās needing help with! Godās mercies are new every morning, his grace enough to enable us to do the āimpossibleā!
–LS
āHis mercy is on them that fear Him from generation to generationā¦ā Lk.1:50