Sometimes while reading the Bible, I laugh, thinking about what mothers may have done in certain situations. The crossing of the Red Sea, for instance, I mean we read the story and move past the circus that was before these families. God is working a mighty miracle in front of their eyes, and you know the mothers were gathering their broods under them. Can’t you see the mom, “Now, son, I told you not to touch that. There is no way to know how secure the wall of water is.” “Get over here, girls!” “If I have to tell you, kids, to stay close one more time.” “Where is your father?!” “I can’t see anything in this wind!” I bet gray hairs formed with every step they took, trying to keep their kids close as they walked, holding on to God’s miraculous hand.
Drying my hair and readying myself for the day, Eva looked up at me and said, “Mommy, you have silver in your hair. What is that from?”
I stopped and looked at her. Then, like a storybook, I began to share, “Those are prizes. Each one is from the long days that seemed never to end and the early mornings that came too quickly. They represent the cheers I shouted watching you play sports and the laughter I have let escape seeing Charlotte fearlessly love life. Some strands are from the times I have taught you, girls, right from wrong, and still others are from sunset evenings on the back porch swing eating strawberry shortcake and watching whipped cream cover your little faces. Those silver streaks are the proving ground of a job well done.“
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Children have a way of speeding up the wrinkles and gray hairs. They also have a way of demonstrating the Blessing. The other day I took notice of my hands while cutting back my rose bushes. I saw lines that were not there a few years ago. I could see my mother in the crevasses along my fingers. The years were resting upon the ridges of each wrinkle. Hard work and perseverance were the strength of her years, and they undoubtedly reside in me as well. Quitting is never an option. My smile is more profound, and my eyes shine brighter with each streak of gray I see; for wisdom is found there.
A few years ago, I felt like a mother during the Red Sea crossing. I was trying to navigate a parking lot while Eva was excited about going up and down the walking ramp. Charlotte was still in the incubator. I saw a car pull in, and immediately I hollered for Eva to stop. She stopped on a dime and turned around, coming back to me. The man got out of his car, came directly up to where I was standing, and offered me a compliment. He remarked, “That was good parenting right there. Most kids keep running.” I commented, “That’s because some parents don’t parent. They bark orders with no follow-through. When it counts, their children are oblivious.” He laughed and nodded in agreement. I thanked him for the compliment. When the gray hairs sneak in around the edges, it is nice to know they are not in vain.
Susanna Wesley Prayed, “Dear Lord, guide me. Help me do your will. Make my life count.” Interestingly enough, Susanna thought she had missed it. She felt her motherly ambition had deflected her compass, never realizing the mark she had left on the world.
A friend of mine was helping me strap in the girls one afternoon when leaving the barn. She must have been reminiscing because she looked at me and stated, “I was working full time. I felt like I had to, but I was missing all the reasons I had children.” Her mother called her from a birthday party to inform her that her youngest child was having a great time roller-skating with all the children. My friend said, “The next day, I walked into my boss’s office and handed him my two-week notice. I told him I did not want miss any more moments of my children growing up.”
Your compass is never deflected when your family is the center. Every silver streak that highlights the contours of your face is from a job well done and every wrinkle is from a little hand you held tight.
Eva heard me joke with our beautician that it would not be long before I might need a little color to cover up a few gray streaks I had noticed. Charlotte was running back and forth with Eva hot on her trail. Eva suddenly stopped and stated matter-of-factly, “No, Mommy! Those are your prize.”
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What Sweet sweet story Kristen!!!!
Thank you Leah! ♥️