M o t h e r ’ s D a y in my own home was a joke, a farce, before I became a Christian mother. Oh yes, we all went through the motions of celebrating a happy “Mother’s Day,” but I knew too well just what kind of a mother I really was, so I was al ways a little relieved when the day was over. Most of the year I felt my children were certainly a hindrance to my singing career and a real hardship on my physical health, not to mention my nerves—and all those diapers! Everything changed when I be came a Christian, especially my atti tude. I began to look at our children as the most precious and rewarding re sponsibility of my life. To think that God would entrust their lives to me is still a source of wonder! To real ize that to train our dear children in the way they should go takes every ounce of brains, talent and stamina that I can muster, plus James 1:5! I know too that I can never again say, in a tired, bored voice, “ I’m just a mother!” I can recall vividly the day I talked with a girl who was expecting. I asked, “ Oh, is this your first baby?” “ I hope so,” she answered. I ques tioned, “ You hope so?” “ Yes,” she said, “ I have had seven miscarriages so far and I pray this baby makes it.” I hugged our children a little tighter that night even though it was after I picked up the glass Laurie had broken and after I settled a small fight with Rick. I can recall last Mother’s Day when two of our children celebrated with me and one tiny brother smiled down from Heaven’s railing. I think my heart ached, not so much from missing him, but from the knowledge that everywhere in the world are women who have never given birth or reared a child, women who have never felt that breathless bit of won der when that baby is placed, for the very first time, in her arms. I thought of my friend, who longed so to be a mother, who would have been so good at it, but who never was able to bear any children. I asked her about her thoughts on Mother's Day. These are the four lines she wrote back in reply: “ Her beautiful home is proper and neat, There’s never a thing out of place, And yet her heart aches for a small cluttered room And a soft chubby hand on her face.” Dear Lord, help me, when it is very difficult to be the mother I should be, to remember these words,
and think what it would be without my little ones.
My mother is so nervous and "jittery" all the time. M y mother's love is "smother-love." M y mother doesn't guide— she dictates. M y mother never compliments me — she only compares me. M y mother allows me no privacy. M y mother is never at home. M y mother never agrees with my father on discipline. M y mother is jealous of my friends; she clings to me. M y mother wants me to be like her, and I want to be me. M y mother never says "I'm sorry," even when she's wrong. M y mother doesn't care how she looks. M y mother is always at church, but I don't see results at home. Although your task as a mother is an extremely difficult one, the Holy Spirit can open your heart to His promptings and give you wisdom as you seek God's guid ance. Mrs. Ruth Calkin welcomes readers’ questions.
Dear Ruth: I find it increasingly difficult to com municate with my teen-age daughter. I long for a healthy, congenial relation ship, but there are so many barriers between us. How can I melt them down ? Dear Mrs. B.: A s you prayerfully take inventory of your relationship with your daughter, it may help you to know the “complaints about mothers" most frequently expressed by teen-age daughters: M y mother is so easily shocked I just can't confide in her. M y mother doesn't really want to know what I think and feel.
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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