Before I was conceived, my mom was thinking of me. Growing up, she always told her mom (my Memo) she desired to be a mother. That was her divine calling and she couldn't wait to get married. When she finally met my Dad, she had me three years after they married.
After I was conceived, my mom was thinking of me. I was born prematurely by a couple of months, and truthfully, the doctors didn't think I'd make it. My parents faithfully visited me day after day, but it was a sight. After numerous blood transfusions, I was a miracle child. Thirty-one days later, I got to go home.
Growing up, my mom was thinking of me. The first time my heart broke, she took me out shopping to clear my mind. She listened to me cry and complain for hours on end and never complained herself. She told me God had someone special in store and to not lose hope. I believed her and Him.
When I got engaged, my mom was thinking of me. She told me to embrace the emotions and that she was happy for me. She helped me celebrate and reminded me to soak it in. I believe she's the only reason I didn't lose my mind while wedding planning.
After I got married, my mom was thinking of me. Every "first' holiday she'd send me a card and a gift. She constantly texted me to ask if I needed anything. She still texts me every morning to say "Good morning, sunshine," as if I'm still living at home, waiting for her to pop her head into my room with those words.
Today, I'm thinking of her. It's about a week out from Mother's Day, and I wonder how she does it. How she took care of me, my dad, and herself, for 27 years. How she still cares for me now.
As a new wife, I'm often exhausted by the demands this life brings. And again, I find myself thinking, How did mom do it? From cooking and cleaning to shopping, talking, and chores, she always had a smile on her face. Rarely did she not. The same is true today. She's the strongest, most beautiful person I know, and yet she doesn't believe that.
When my mom looks in the mirror she doesn't see what I see. She sees wrinkles, a dirty house, a tired body, and a worn soul. She's never thought of herself as beautiful. I wish that she could see what Christ and I see. Because when I look at my mom and the life she's lived, I see what Proverbs 31 calls a woman to be praised.
"A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands. She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar. She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants" (Proverbs 31:10-15, NIV).
My mom is worth far more than rubies. I know my dad and I are proud.
My mom brings joy and goodness with every breath she takes. I've never met a more positive, loving, God-fearing woman who truly works day and night, continually placing others' needs above her own.
My mom rises early and stays up late tending to those in need and giving all she has to the poor. I believe most mothers exemplify these characteristics.
But what I love most about my mom is that when I think of her, I think of Jesus. And as a humble servant, never thinking better of herself, but looking to the interest of others, she's selfless in all she says and does. She truly is a woman who fears the Lord and should be praised (Proverbs 31:30).
Proverbs 31 has intimidated women (including myself) for generations. Who can measure up to all it discusses? But a Proverbs 31 woman isn't born; she's developed over the ages.
"She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks. She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night. In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers. She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy." Proverbs 31:16-20 (NIV)
My mom is thoughtful and wise. She considers what she does and thinks before she acts. She tells me she wasn't always this way.
My mom works hard at home and her job. The light she possesses continually burns bright. Her arms are always open, and heaven knows she always gave me and many others the benefit of the doubt.
Even in the most terrifying or horrible circumstances, my mom was and still is positive. She looks on the bright side and lives for heaven, though she's here on earth. Most days I find her laughing, not worried about tomorrow, trusting the Lord despite her anxiety. I pray to become more like her. Maybe you can relate with your own mom or mother-like figure?
"When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet. She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple. Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land. She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes. She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come." Proverbs 31:21-25 (NIV)
Even as a young adult, now married and living on my own, there isn't a day I don't think of my mom. I don't get to visit her as much as I'd like, but as always, she's gracious in patience, love, and understanding, even in that. My mom isn't perfect, but she's my mom, and this is my tribute to her. Not to gloat about who she is, but who Christ is within her.
"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate." Proverbs 31:26-31 (NIV)
I will honor you, forever, Mom.
How will you thank your mom today?
Agape, Amber
Photo Credit: ©Getty Images/Dean Mitchell