I don’t think it’s fair that some people must search their whole life for inspiration when mine lives in my own family. Then again, there is nothing about grace that is fair.
I was born with three built-in role models. Mothers who—as I’ve learned to appreciate them—have taught me how to be a Godly woman.
= = =
My mom has taught me that if you see something that needs to be changed, you have to change it. She is not okay with being passive or with standing by and watching—she wants to do. Not because she is a control freak (although the alphabetized spice rack, color-coded mail folders, and Q-tip-cleaned stove top might cause you to think otherwise)—she does things because she cares about things getting done. Her every move seems to be motivated by the truth that “It is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it” (James 4:17).
On a practical level, she has taught me how to be organized and efficient—which can be a curse when I find myself shuttering at the thought of an item being placed in the wrong kitchen drawer but has been an immeasurable blessing as I have navigated earning a college degree, living on my own, and balancing work and life.
Mom doesn’t do things just for the sake of accomplishment, she does things because she cares about people. Last weekend she itemized the grocery list and pre-labeled the serving bowls so that she could fill our house with people we love. I can’t remember a Thanksgiving in recent years where we didn’t have at least one non-family member at the dinner table because she has to do something about people who don’t have a place to celebrate that day. It seems that every time I visit home there is a new group of young kids who sheepishly introduce themselves to me at church because Mom whispered to them, “Look, that’s my girl!”; it turns out, my mom is a pseudo mom to an ever-growing group of kids, and she is constantly serving others by opening up her home and offering to watch their kids. It’s not uncommon for me to come home and find that Mom’s car is missing because she let someone use it for the weekend or to smell a fresh-cooked meal in the oven that she’s preparing for the homeless ministry she serves in. My mom never stops going, because she never stops caring.
My love for worship comes from my mom. It doesn’t take long after our family is gathered at home for the worship jam session to break out. We all sort of independently mosey in to the living room and, before you know it, everyone has an instrument, and Mom is standing up with one hand anchored on the piano guiding us with emphatic hand motions on who will take melody and who will take harmony when we get to the chorus. (Thomas is a mainstay on keys, and now that Evan is an awesome guitar player, I usually opt to get a few bangs in on the djembe—Mom, I can’t give you credit for those skills, that’s all me). The room is filled with laughter just as much as it is with enthusiastic songs to our God. Thanks to Mom, I think I will enter Heaven singing loudly.
= = =
My dad’s mom, Grams, has taught me the art of hospitality. It is so effortless for her, the way she prepares a space for people to feel welcomed and cared for. When you arrive at Grams’ house, there is already a spread of delicious snacks sitting on the counter, soft worship music playing in the background, and—if it’s winter time—a fire in the fireplace. It feels as if she has been waiting and anticipating your arrival all day long, and as you enter through the door way, she slowly approaches you with a warm embrace that, in and of itself, says, I am so glad you are here. And suddenly, everything feels at peace. This is not special treatment that just her grandkids get, either (although, I like to think that not EVERYONE gets to leave Grams’ house with two Tupperwares full of homemade cookies and a bag of opera fudge). Grams and Grandpa have turned their home in to a bed and breakfast where they serve people like this all throughout the year. I know for a fact that Grams doesn’t just wash the sheets and prepare meals for her guests—she prays over them and speaks to them about the goodness of the Lord, knowing that “People do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4).
Grams is so caring and genuinely takes an interest in the lives of others. When she asks me what I want to do when I’m at her house, sometimes I feel a little guilty to admit that all I’d really like to do is sit in one of her big arm chairs with a cup of coffee and talk to her about life. She is such a great listener, knowing exactly when to ask exactly the right questions, when to share her refined wisdom, and when to just let me talk and tell stories.
Grams is calm and gentle, but her faith roars like a lion. The last time I visited with her she was telling me more about her run-ins with cancer earlier in life (I was too young to remember the details). After having had surgery to have the cancer removed, she got some scary results on a scan a couple of years later. When she arrived at the doctor’s office to talk about next steps, the doctor told her, “This is very odd, but your scan today doesn’t show anything.” Grams replied, “Great! God healed me! I’m going home,” and quickly left. You can’t help but feel strengthened in her presence. You feel like you want to stand close to her just hoping that some of that faith will rub off on you.
= = =
Grandmama’s entire life—every waking minute—is surrendered to the Lord. The first thing she does every morning when she wakes up is pray for all of her family members. I have to believe that those prayers are at least part of the reason why my family and I have remained loyal to God’s plans over the years—“The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results” (James 5:17). When you’re visiting at Grandmama’s house, it’s not uncommon to be sitting around TV only to look over and see that Grandmama has her glasses lowered on her nose and is flipping through the pages of her Bible. It’s as if she can’t go even a couple of hours without ingesting the word of God.
When we were young, I remember long visits at Grandmama’s house in the beautiful Florida sunshine. In the mornings, the kids would sit at the table eating breakfast, and Grandmama would sit with us and read us daily devotionals and scripture verses. At the time, I was a kid and thought, Is THIS how we’re going to be spending our vacation??? I think I would have preferred to be outside riding in the golf cart or swimming in the pool. But looking back on it, I think those times are part of what contributed to my love for God’s word and taught me how to have quiet time with Him. I will never stop learning from Grandmama’s life of obedience.
= = =
I pray to become like just one of these women. Or maybe, like Jesus, I’ll go for the trifecta.
Quite literally, I would not be here today without any one of them. But I also know for certain that I would not be the follower of Christ that I am without the influence of them all. I am blessed by the lessons they teach with their lives. I love you all dearly! Happy Mother’s Day.
