Strength and
dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her
mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks
well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her
children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.”
As we celebrate Mother’s
Day this weekend, let me ask you the following questions.
Do
you know your Mother’s story, do you know her history? Have you ever just sat
down with your mother and asked her, “Mom, who are you?” “Tell me your story”.
My
mother was born in Ireland in 1935, the eldest child of a larger family. At a
young age my Nan (Grandmother) came down with Polio. The family moved to Great
Britain so my Nan could receive the care that she greatly needed. While crossing to England the hospital ship
that my mother and her family was on, was circled by a German fighter aircraft.
The German plane observed the fact that the ship was marked with a big red
cross, identifying it as a hospital ship and a non-combatant the plane left the ship alone. My mother (Mary) and her family survived
bombings and food shortages in war torn England. Mary often helped get the
younger children into the family’s bomb shelter during air raids. She and her
siblings wore gas mask pack to school, she remembers the planes flying over for
D-Day and she can tell you what the sound of a German V-1 and V-2 rocket sound
like. She can even tell the story about her parents considering shipping all
the children to Australia for safety.
In
later years (the early 1950’s) she met my Father who was an enlisted man in the
Unites States Air Force, stationed in England during the Korean Conflict. With
a son and husband she ventured to the United States aboard the USNS Upsur, as
to begin a new life. For my mother, home sickness was horrible, as she tried to
begin a new life in the United States. With the birth of 4 children and the
death of another when she was a toddler, she understood the feeling of
experiencing these things without the presence of her parents. My parents
divorced when I was four and my mother eventually remarried, we all moved in
together and awaited the birth of my baby sister. Yes, seven to eight people in
a mobile home was at times tough, but my mother made it work until we moved
into a larger home. I was raised by this strong Irish lady, who taught me to
make my bed with crisp tight hospital corners. I was taught the values of right
and wrong, and the value of hard work. A few years ago her husband who I called
dad, passed away. She now lives in her apartment alone and confident,
surrounded by the love of friends and my siblings. Even though I am far away, I
embrace my mother’s story as well as embracing the fact that she played an
important role in making me the man, husband and father, that I am today.
My
prayer for you is that you sit down with your mother say, “Mom Tell Me Your Story”. Like the text says, and in this way you will know that strength
and dignity are her clothing. Many women have done it but your mom surpasses
them all!
This is the day that the
Lord has made, rejoice and be glad in it.
Mary’s Boy
Pastor Tim.
