61 Sermon Illustrations on Mother S Day

There are many ways to celebrate Mother's Day. In 1971, President KoBassa of the Central African Republic honored the holiday by rounding up all the men who were in jail for committing crimes against their mothers. Then he executed them.

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Sermon in Family Series. Mothers' Day. Proverbs 22:3-6

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SUCCESSFUL MOMMING

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I. Motherhood is not what it used to be.

II. "Train up your child." Proverbs 22:6

A. Popular verse is often misunderstood.

B. Train your child in the manner befitting a child.

III. Children have bents.

A. Grooming the good bents. Psalm 139:13-15

B. Oppose the bad bents. Psalm 51:5

IV. Advice from a preacher's wife.

V. When he is old he will not depart.

A. Does not refer to sowing oats, and then returning.

B. Means a properly trained child should stick to the course.

C. Take mothering seriously and bear eternal fruit.

#3744

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Dear Lord,

Thank you for this child that I call mine; not my possession but my sacred charge. Teach me patience and humility so that the best I know may flow in its being. Let me always remember, parental love is my natural instinct but my child's love must ever be deserved and earned; That for love I must give love, That for understanding I must give understanding, That for respect, I must give respect; That as I was the giver of life, so must I be the giver always. Help me to share my child with life and not toclutch at it for my own sake. Give courage to do my share to make this world a better place for all children and my own.

Anna M. Jarvis (1864-1948) first suggested the national observance of an annual day honoring all mothers because she had loved her own mother so dearly. At a memorial service for her mother on May 10, 1908, Miss Jarvis gave a carnation (her mother's favorite flower) to each person who attended.

Within the next few years, the idea of a day to honor mothers gained popularity, and Mother's Day was observed in a number of large cities in the U.S.

On May 9, 1914, by an act of Congress, President Woodrow Wilson proclained the second Sunday in May as Mother's Day. He established the day as a time for "public expression of our love and reverence for the mothers of our country." By then it had become customary to wear white carnations to honor departed mothers and red to honor the living, a custom that continues to this day.

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Pulpit Helps, May, 1991

The Day the Angels Sang to Mother

One day, a young Mother set her foot on the path of life. She was

excited and thrilled by what laid ahead of her. Curious, though, by

her mysterious journey, she asked her Guardian Angel, "Is the journey

long and difficult?" Her Guardian Angel replied: "Yes, and at times the journey will seem

hard and burdensome. But remember this, no matter how tough it gets,

you'll discover that everything will work out for the best if you have

faith in the Almighty One. Trust me, the end will be better than the

beginning."

The young Mother was happy, and she did not believe that anything

could be better or more special than these years. So she played with

her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way. Life was

good during these early years since the sun always casted its radiance

on them. Because of this, the young Mother rejoiced and said,

"Nothing will ever be lovelier than these years."

Then night came and a violent storm gathered. Both the wind and

the rain drenched them. In no time, the children were trembling with

fear and terror. Concerned about their safety, the Mother immediately

drew them close to her bosom and tenderly covered them with her

mantle. Comforted, the children said, "Mother, we are no longer

afraid, for you are near. No harm can touch us now." The Mother then

took a deep sigh and said, "This is better than the brightness of day,

for I have taught my children the value of trust and courage."

Eventually morning arrived. At the break of dawn, they all saw a

rocky hill ahead. The children decided to climb it, but quickly grew

weary. The Mother too was weary, but she repeatedly encouraged her

children saying, "A little more effort and patience, for we're almost

there." So the children continued to climb the hill -- even when they

slipped and fell along the rugged path. When they finally reached the

top, they triumphantly cheered, "We couldn't have done it without you,

Mother, and now we know that we can overcome any mountain that comes

along our way." That night, the Mother raised her tired eyes to

Heaven and thanked God saying, "This is a better day than the last,

for my children have learned endurance and hope in the face of

hardships."

The next day, strange clouds came which darkened the earth --

clouds of war, hatred, and evil. Overwhelmed by these threatening

clouds, the Mother and her children staggered and stumbled.

Fortunately, though, the Mother remembered what her Guardian Angel

told her. Therefore, she inspired her children saying, "Have faith,

my beloved ones. Lift your eyes to the Light, for the Light will

bring forth sunshine in the midst of this dreadful darkness." So the

children looked to the Light, and saw an Everlasting Friend above the

clouds. The Everlasting Friend guided them, and successfully brought

them beyond the horrifying evil. That evening, the Mother wept and

said, "This is the best day of all, for I have taught my children to

love God."

And the days went by. The weeks, the months, and the years took

their natural course. The day, however, finally came when the Mother

grew old. By now, she was tired, wrinkled, and weak. But her

children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. Indeed, when

the road was hard, they helped their Mother. When the road was rough,

they lifted her. And when the road was too painful, they carried her.

Ultimately, though, the day came when the Mother and her children

arrived at a forest. Beyond the forest, they could see a sparkling

trail which led them to some gates that were made of diamonds and

pearls. The golden brilliance of this Gate was majestic and

breathtaking. At the other side of the Gate, there were some people

dressed in white robes. With a smile on their faces, they beckoned the Mother to walk

through the Gates.

Upon seeing the wondrous Gate, the Mother said: "I have successfully

reached the end of my journey. My Guardian Angel was right, for now I

know that the end is better than the beginning. Indeed, my children

can walk alone, and their children after them." The children then

turned to her and declared, "You'll always walk with us, Mother, even

when you have gone through the Gates."

Soon thereafter, the children watched her as she walked through the

Gates of Eternal Life. When the Mother finally made it through the

Gates, the children suddenly heard a heavenly chorus. Unlike anything

heard on earth, the chorus sang extravagant songs of praise and

admiration in honor of the Mother. The children wept when they heard

the songs because they were so grateful for their Mother.

At last, though, they were forced to smile and say, "We cannot see

her, but she is still with us. A Mother like ours is more than a

loving memory. She is a living Presence for all eternity." It was a

day never to be forgotten because it was the day the angels sang to

Mother....

Unknown

Author

It is said that a young man became very profligate. He almost broke

the hearts of his parents. The mother was actually about to die from

the strain. Finally, one day he acted so shamefully that his father

said to him, "We have done everything in our power for you. You have

disgraced the family and are killing your mother. All that we do for

you is in vain. I am sorry, but I must ask you to leave our home and

never return." The young man left.

The months and years went by. Finally the boy became so miserable

and homesick it seemed he could not stand it. So he wrote his mother

this letter: "Dear Mother: I am ashamed of my fearful conduct in the

home. I can hardly stand to think I must never see you again. However,

I do not know whether or not Father and you can forgive me. But I will

be on train No. 2 that passes your home at 10:00 a.m. [Then he gave

the day.] Now if you can forgive me and will take me back, I want you

to hang a sheet out on the clothesline. I shall look as the train

passes and, if I see the sheet, I will know that you will forgive me,

and I will get off at the next station, just below the house, and come

home."

Well, what do you think she did? Not only did she hang out one

sheet, but every sheet, towel, pillowcase and everything else white

that she had. The clothesline, fence, and rosebushes were covered with

sheets, towels, etc. Of course he came home, and, oh, such a welcome!

It was forgiveness in abundance.

William Moses Tidwell, "Pointed Illustrations."

The "Mother’s Day" concept has a long history of religious connections which in modern times seem to have been predominantly Christian.

In ancient Greece, the idea of paying tribute to motherhood was given expression with a regular festival tantamount to mother-worship. Formal ceremonies to Cybele, or Rhea, the "Great Mother of the Gods," were performed on the Ides of March throughout Asia Minor.

For Christianity, the concept seems to date back to establishment of England’s "Mothering Sunday," a custom of the people which provided that one attend the mother church in which he was baptized on Mid-Lent Sunday. Gifts were to be offered at the altar to the church and to worshippers’ mothers. The concept was divorced of any "mother worship," but nevertheless perpetuated its religious association.

U.S. observance of Mother’s Day, too, has been characterized by church ties from the start. The first general observance of the occasion was in the churches of Philadelphia after Miss Anne Jarvis campaigned for a holiday for mothers more than 50 years ago [1907 - now almost 100 years ago].

- Christianity Today

Friends of one young mother with three young children were surprised when they received this thank you note after they had given her a play pen:

"Many thanks for the play pen. It is being used everyday from 2 to 3 pm.

I get in it to read and the children can’t get near me."

"Contrary to popular belief, Mother's Day was not conceived and fine-tuned in the boardroom of Hallmark."

• Greeks and Romans had festivals to Rhea and Cybele, the mothers of the gods.

• Church replaced this with a festival on the fourth Sunday in Lent in honor of Mary.

• England expanded holiday to "include all mothers and was called Mothering Sunday."

Beginnings in North America

• Anna Jarvis organized "Mother's Work Day" in the 1860s in order to promote better public health. "She believed it would be best advocated by mothers."

• Julia Ward Howe, poet, pacifist, suffragette, "Battle Hymn of the Republic" author, organized a "Mother's Peace Day" in Boston

"In 1905 when Anna Jarvis died, her daughter, also named Anna, began a campaign to memorialize the life work of her mother. Legend has it that young Anna remembered a Sunday school lesson that her mother gave in which she said, 'I hope and pray that someone, sometime, will found a memorial mother's day. There are many days for men, but none for mothers.'"

• Anna Jarvis (the younger) lobbied business men and government for making Mother's day official.

• Congress adopted a resolution calling for government officials to wear white carnations on Mother's Day 1913.

• Woodrow Wilson signed a bill making Mother's Day official in 1914.

"At first, people observed Mother's Day by attending church, writing letters to their mothers, and eventually, by sending cards, presents, and flowers. With the increasing gift-giving activity associated with Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis became enraged."

• Hated the commercialization of the holiday, sued to stop a Mother's Day festival.

• Was arrested for disturbing the peace when she protested the selling of carnations for a war mother's group.

"Before her death in 1948, Jarvis is said to have confessed that she regretted ever starting the mother's day tradition."

Nevertheless, "... Mother's Day has flourished in the United States. In fact, the second Sunday of May has become the most popular day of the year to dine out, and telephone lines record their highest traffic."

Top 10 Momisms

Quotes you have heard from your mom and are probably using yourself! You've heard your mom say it hundreds of times, you are now saying it. You know what we're talking about those lines all moms seem to have handy when they need the kids to obey.

Why? Because I said so, that's why!

I'm going to give you until the count of three!

I don't know is NOT an answer

If everyone jumped off a cliff would you do it too?

I'm not talking just to hear my own voice

Bob, Sue, Joe, Fido..whatever your name is...

[selected]

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God ... that of being a Mother.

Author Unknown

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Mother's Influence

Read: Proverbs 1:1-9

Do not forsake the law of your mother. --Proverbs 1:8

It is my conviction that many a mother will occupy a higher position in God's kingdom than many prominent Christian leaders whom we might expect to find in places of greater honor.

Think of some of the great men of the Bible like Moses, Samuel, and Timothy. Where would they have been had it not been for their praying, Spirit-led mothers? Think of Augustine, John Newton, and the zealous Wesleys; their names may never have lighted the pages of history had it not been for the blessed influence of godly mothers!

The simple prayers from our infant lips were but echoes from our mother's heart. Can we ever forget the soft caresses of those hands of blessing on our heads as we knelt by our beds? Can we fail to remember her night vigils, her seasons of intercession, her well-marked Bible, and her words of admonition? Her actions spoke eloquently of Him who taught us of the greater love of God.

What a tragedy to neglect the counsel of a godly mother! What eternal consequences to reject her God! If you have wandered from her teaching, turn to Christ before it is too late and make sure of meeting her in heaven. "Do not forsake the law of your mother" (Prov. 1:8). --Henry G. Bosch

When Mother prayed, she found sweet rest,

When Mother prayed, her soul was blest;

Her heart and mind on Christ were stayed,

And God was there when Mother prayed! --Anon.

A thousand men may build a city, but it takes a mother to make a home.

Yes, mother’s day comes and goes. But the memories linger and remain...

“The woman who creates and sustains a home and under whose hands

children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a

creator second only to God.” -- Helen Hunt Jackson

Mother’s Day has been difficult for me since my mother died of cancer in 1990. There are many things I miss about her, but what I miss the most is sharing my children with her.

Sometimes I get a twinge of sadness because I was never able financially to give her even a tiny fraction of what she gave me. My Mother’s Day gifts to her were usually inexpensive, a pair of new pajamas, a new purse. Then I realize that my love was the only gift she ever really wanted.

I was reminded of that yesterday when my seven-year-old thanked me for his birthday presents. “Mom,” he said, “do you know which gift I liked best?”

I imagined it would be the super-soaker water gun, guaranteed to shoot up to fifty feet, the one he used to squirt his sister, the dog, and me. But that wasn’t what he said.

“It’s the love you gave me Mom,” he stated, then ran off to play.

I stood frozen with my mouth open and the tears sliding down my face, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed with how wonderful motherhood can be. How I longed to pick up the phone and call the person who was not only my mother, but also my best friend, to tell her that the love she gave me now lives on in her grandchildren. But I couldn’t.

Her love for me lives on in other ways too. It visits me in the spring when the flowers she planted a few months before she died bloom. It comes to me from her former students when they write me letters, or take the time to tell me what a wonderful teacher she was.

And so each Mother’s Day I have a host of bittersweet memories. I rejoice that in a world of abused and abandoned children, I had a mother who loved me, nurtured me, and taught me right from wrong. And I cry, because I miss her friendship, her strength, her humor, and her love for my children.

There is a creed in Robert Fulghum’s wonderful book, ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN. It is called the “Storytellers Creed” and I asked the minister to read at Mama’s funeral. It says in part...

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge.

That dreams are more powerful than facts.

That hope always triumphs over experience

That laughter is the only cure for grief.

And I believe that love is stronger than death.

-- Robert Fulghum

Love really is stronger than death because it comes from God, and it is because of God and His sacrifice, that we have hope of life eternal. And then there will be no more goodbyes, because like the old hymn says there will be “no tears in heaven.”

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(c) 2001 Teresa Kindred, -

The child asked God, "They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"

"Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you."

The child further inquired, "But tell me, here in heaven I don't have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy."

God said, "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you will feel your angel's love and be very happy."

Again the child asked, "And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don't know the language?"

God said, "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."

"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"

God said, "Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."

"Who will protect me?"

God said, "Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life."

"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."

God said, "Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you."

At that moment there was much peace in heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, "God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."

You will simply call her "Mom."

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What is America’s greatest source of strength and inspiration?

According to the U.S. Congress, it’s American mothers. Stay-at-home moms, Congress declared, are “doing so much for the home … and [for] religion,” which leads to “good government and humanity.”

Okay, as you may have guessed, the present 106th Congress said no such thing. Good heavens, radical feminists would never allow it! But the Congress DID use these words 86 years ago when it created Mother’s Day. The words reflect the widespread belief that full-time mothers were performing a vitally important task.

How times have changed. Within just a few decades, it appears, few mothers believe this truth any more, which is another indication of the power of cultural messages.

In 1914, when the first Mother’s Day was celebrated, virtually every cultural messenger, from women’s magazines to Congress, praised mothers who devoted themselves to their children. But by the 1950s, cultural messengers had another story to tell. Instead of honoring full-time mothers, the messengers began scorning them as “parasites” who wasted their brains. For editorial writers, Mother’s Day became an occasion to celebrate, not the hardworking mother at home, but the mom who brought home a paycheck.

And the message sank in: By 1996, more than two- thirds of married mothers of young children worked outside the home at least part-time.

In his book, “There’s No Place Like Work,” Brian Robertson writes that decisions about child care and work are formed “in response to subtle and not-so- subtle messages of cultural acceptability.”

If we hold up as cultural heroes, for example, young mothers who put their careers ahead of family, he says, “We should not be surprised that fewer women are devoting themselves to [their] children . . . even if such devotion is necessary.”

The good news is that more and more mothers are telling cultural messengers to get lost. In 1997, the number of married mothers of young children who worked for wages declined for the first time since the 1950s. And a USA Today poll reveals that a solid majority of mothers working full-time would prefer to work part-time — or not at all.

Robertson speculates that these changes may represent a growing hostility by mothers to the idea that the workplace is where they ought to be seeking fulfillment. One of these mothers is economist Jennifer Roback Morse. Once upon a time, Morse says, she was one of those women who argued that a career is too important to sacrifice in order to stay home with kids. She admits her negative feelings about the domestic life were the result of cultural conditioning.

But then Morse had children of her own — and she realized she had been brainwashed. “There is no good substitute for my care,” she declares. “Hired help cannot create a home or raise a child.”

It’s not easy for mothers to ignore cultural messengers who say they’re wasting their time at home. But you and I ought to give full-time mothers all the support they deserve. Maybe it would be a good idea if Congress would pass a new Mother’s Day Resolution, like the one they passed in the beginning, to honor moms who willingly sacrifice a career for the sake of their kids.

Feminist leaders might pitch a fit — but millions of moms would be eternally grateful.

DEAR MOM,

You made me go to Sunday School;

You insisted that I get a college degree;

You made me go to sleep by 9 PM when I was an adolescent;

You made me come inside when it got dark;

You told me not to play with matches;

You corrected my grammar;

You made me wash my hands;

You made me eat my vegetables;

You made me walk my dog;

You wouldn’t let me cross the big avenue until I was ten years old;

You made me use a handkerchief instead of using my sleeve;

You told me to do my homework;

You made me stand up straight, and take my hands out of my pockets;

You made me look it up in the dictionary;

You wouldn’t let me have dessert before dinner;

You made me pay for Mrs. Larson’s window;

You made me clean my room;

You made me put my money in the bank;

You made me mow the lawn;

You made me shovel the snow off the sidewalk;

You wouldn’t let me watch too much TV;

You made me turn down my music;

You made me wear a bicycle helmet;

You wouldn’t let me get a motorcycle;

You made me get a haircut;

You said that I couldn’t have snakes;

You wouldn’t let me spit, or pick my nose;

You slapped me on the rump just because the principal called;

You wouldn’t let me smoke grass or drink booze;

You wouldn’t let me play with firecrackers;

You told the police that I was hiding in the basement;

and therefore, . . . I am what I am today because of you!

Happy Mother's Day!

As I sat perched in the second-floor window of our brick schoolhouse that afternoon, my heart began to sink further with each passing car. This was a day I'd looked forward to for weeks: Miss Pace's fourth-grade, end-of-the-year party. Miss Pace had kept a running countdown on the blackboard all that week, and our class of nine-year-olds had bordered on insurrection by the time the much-anticipated "party Friday" had arrived.

I had happily volunteered my mother when Miss Pace requested cookie volunteers. Mom's chocolate chips reigned supreme on our block, and I knew they'd be a hit with my classmates. But two o'clock passed, and there was no sign of her. Most of the other mothers had already come and gone, dropping off their offerings of punch and crackers, chips, cupcakes and brownies. My mother was missing in action.

"Don't worry, Robbie, she'll be along soon," Miss Pace said as I gazed forlornly down at the street. I looked at the wall clock just in time to see its black minute hand shift to half-past.

Around me, the noisy party raged on, but I wouldn't budge from my window watch post. Miss Pace did her best to coax me away, but I stayed put, holding out hope that the familiar family car would round the corner, carrying my rightfully embarrassed mother with a tin of her famous cookies tucked under her arm. The three o'clock bell soon jolted me from my thoughts and I dejectedly grabbed my book bag from my desk and shuffled out the door for home.

On the four-block walk to our house, I plotted my revenge. I would slam the front door upon entering, refuse to return her hug when she rushed over to me, and vow never to speak to her again. The house was empty when I arrived and I looked for a note on the refrigerator that might explain my mother's absence, but found none. My chin quivered with a mixture of heartbreak and rage. For the first time in my life, my mother had let me down. I was lying face-down on my bed upstairs when I heard her come through the front door.

"Robbie," she called out a bit urgently. "Where are you?" I could then hear her darting frantically from room to room, wondering where I could be. I remained silent. In a moment, she mounted the steps - the sounds of her footsteps quickening as she ascended the staircase.

When she entered my room and sat beside me on my bed, I didn't move but instead stared blankly into my pillow refusing to acknowledge her presence.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she said. "I just forgot. I got busy and forgot - plain and simple."

I still didn't move. "Don't forgive her," I told myself. "She humiliated you. She forgot you. Make her pay."

Then my mother did something completely unexpected. She began to laugh. I could feel her shudder as the laughter shook her. It began quietly at first and then increased in its velocity and volume.

I was incredulous. How could she laugh at a time like this? I rolled over and faced her, ready to let her see the rage and disappointment in my eyes.

But my mother wasn't laughing at all. She was crying. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed softly. "I let you down. I let my little boy down."

She sank down on the bed and began to weep like a little girl. I was dumbstruck. I had never seen my mother cry. To my understanding, mothers weren't supposed to. I wondered if this was how I looked to her when I cried.

I desperately tried to recall her own soothing words from times past when I'd skinned knees or stubbed toes, times when she knew just the right thing to say. But in that moment of tearful plight, words of profundity abandoned me like a worn-out shoe. "It's okay, Mom," I stammered as I reached out and gently stroked her hair. "We didn't even need those cookies. There was plenty of stuff to eat. Don't cry. It's all right. Really."

My words, as inadequate as they sounded to me, prompted my mother to sit up. She wiped her eyes, and a slight smile began to crease her tear-stained cheeks. I smiled back awkwardly, and she pulled me to her.

We didn't say another word. We just held each other in a long, silent embrace. When we came to the point where I would usually pull away, I decided that, this time, I could hold on, perhaps, just a little bit longer.

By Robert Tate Miller

Don't you wish you could hold your Mother right now? If you are one of the lucky ones who still has Mom in this world, why don't you give her a call or better yet go and see her. Life is too short for us not to spend quality time with the people we love the most. We need to let them know that we love and appreciate them. So don't wait.. call them.. plan the trip.. hold your Mother one more time and tell her that you love her.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator door, and I immediately wanted to paint another one.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking I saw you feed a stray cat, and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make my favorite cake for me and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking I heard you pray, and I knew there was a God whom I could talk to and whom I could trust.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I watched you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick, and I learned that all of us need to help take care of each other.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don’t.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it and I learned that we should take care of those who have been given to us.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn’t feel well and I learned to be responsible as I grew up.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw tears come to your eyes and I learned that sometimes things hurt, and it’s okay to cry.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I noticed how much you cared and it made me want to be everything that I could be.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I learned most of life’s lessons that I needed to know to be a kind and productive person when I grew up.

• When you thought I wasn’t looking, I looked! Yes, I am looking at you now and I just want to say, “Thanks for all the things I saw through you when you thought that I wasn’t looking.”

You may have had a swing set in the backyard when you were growing up or, if your dad was especially handy, a tree house. Nowadays, among America's affluent class, a “mere” swing set or tree house might qualify as child neglect.

Instead, nothing less than a castle will suffice. Really. The “Atherton Castle” comes with a two-story, seven-foot-square “fort,” and a ten-foot bridge that connects to another five-level fort with a “crazy bar” climb — all for only $54,600.

If that price seems steep, there's a “pirate's haunt” for only $35,000. Or if you choose to spend more, you could pick the $166,000 “Napa Valley Chalet,” complete with cedar-shingle roofs, electricity, plumbing, and footbridge. Now that's a playhouse.

This is more than conspicuous consumption. Castles for tykes are some of the more extreme artifacts of the mania that many Americans bring to parenting. This “madness” was the subject of a recent Newsweek story by Judith Warner, author of the new book Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety.

Warner's experience and observations led her to ask why “arguably the most liberated and privileged group of women” in American history have “driven themselves crazy in the quest for perfect mommy-dom,” making “high-pressured, time-demanding, [and] utterly exhausting kids' activities” an essential part of parenting?

Her answer is that women “are unsupported, because their children are not taken care of, in any meaningful way, by society at large.” They must face the “harsh realities of family life” without “structures” that will allow them “to balance work and child-rearing.”

If that sounds to you like a brief for government-supported daycare, that's because it is. But even if such daycare were a good policy idea — I don't think it is — it wouldn't address the major source of this “madness.” Everybody knows that parenting is stressful. But why has it driven the women Warner describes crazy?

As columnist James Lileks put it, the “madness” Warner describes is what happens when “a preposterous ideal is [confronted] by reality.” Women who grew up believing that they “had fantastic, unlimited freedom of choice” find out that they can't be both “Corporate Warrior Princess” and “UberSuperPerfectRoleModelLove-GusherMom.”

Even women who don't buy into the “preposterous ideal” are affected, because the expectations of Warner's privileged class are spread by the media. A generation of American women — and increasingly men — is expected to be in the car and out of breath trying to keep up with their kids' schedules.

What they really need, as Lileks writes, is to ignore “the set of internally contradictory expectations thrown” at their heads “like a big frozen watermelon.” Instead, they should recall that parenting, as his mom taught him, consists of: “Be there. Be consistent. Be kind. Listen. Help.”

It's our presence, not their activities, that enrich our children's lives. If you can't enjoy your kids, the gifts and activities do not matter. You might as well start writing checks to their shrink now.

Of course, being present requires making precisely the kinds of choices Warner wants to avoid — which leaves many parents asking, castle or chalet?

FOR FURTHER READING AND INFORMATION:

• Don't believe those expensive toys mentioned in the commentary exist? See Barbara Butler's Play Structures: http://www.barbarabutler.com/Pricelist_PlayStructures.html She accepts VISA.

• Judith Warner, “Mommy Madness,” Newsweek, 21 February 2005.

• See James Lileks's blog entry on Perfect Madness (17 February 2005).

• John Podhoretz, “Parenthood 101,” New York Post, 18 February 2005.

• Gregg Easterbrook, The Progress Paradox (Random House, 2003).

• BreakPoint Commentary No. 031118, “Bankrupt at Age Twenty-Five: Marketing to Teens, Tweens, and Kids.”

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Copyright © 2005 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

Mother's Day sermon 2 Timothy 1:4-7

MOMS WHO MOLD

=============

I. What is a molding mom?

II. Influential mothers in Bible.

A. Influence comes in different varieties.

B. A better kind of influence.

C. Everybody is an influence.

III. Factors to focus on.

A. The beliefs you teach.

B. The values you pass on.

C. The example you set.

D. The faith you are committed to.

IV. The unseen hand.

*

So much of the Mother’s Day hoopla undermines motherhood in a weird way. It suggests that every mom is the same, that we have universal tastes and needs and that all we need is a good brunch once a year to make us happy. They all work together to create this dreamy, perfect view of motherhood, something that is rarely dreamy or perfect. So if you don’t fit in to the ideal model of motherhood, all the lovely books and teacups and sermons end up being a reminder of how not like “all the other moms” you really are. I would rather see motherhood celebrated as the complex, mysterious, unique-to-everyone experience that it is. It is too incredible to be codified or sentimentalized. It is too profound to fit on a card or a plaque. It’s a relationship, not a Hallmark moment.

*

[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #12894]

Sharman Robertson strolls down an aisle of metal shelves and well-aligned file boxes, stopping midway to pull one down and into her arms. It is box B3F.1 and inside it are the remnants of Mother's Day 1931 -- in greeting cards. Robertson is corporate archivist at Hallmark Cards, keeper of a vast history in pictures and poems. “You could launch 500 dissertations from the material here,” notes her interviewer, “from gender studies or marketing to design or art history to psychology or anthropology.”

Card companies speak openly about the changing dynamics of culture and its affects on card-writing. There are categories and identified-groups today that wouldn't have crossed card-makers' minds decades earlier. Whether it is a changing culture or expanding market that has had the most influence is hard to say -- arguably, it is some of both. Mothers have been adopting for years; they just haven't always had an entire line of cards that focused on it. Yet despite the growing number of targeted relationships, there are still a great number of people who find card-shopping difficult. I used to think I just didn't fit into a Hallmark category. Now I wonder if it is more that the categories don't exactly fit any of us.

In Hallmark's boxes of Mother's Day past are sentiments and depictions that have perhaps changed more than mom herself. She is still the real woman who wrestles with life on her own and for the sake of her family, who has been touched by loss and struggled with disappointment. It's not at all that the sentimental feelings expressed in the Mother's Day card I sent this year are false; it's just that my mom -- and our relationship -- is so much more real than any card or category could articulate.

Scripture's unadorned images of motherhood do not fit neatly into categories either. Naomi was embittered by the death of her husband and her two young sons. Rebekah conspired with her son to trick her ailing husband. Sarah, Hannah, Michal, and Elizabeth -- among others -- suffered the despair and scorn of barren wombs. The parents of the prodigal son faced the blatant disregard of their youngest child. Mary watched her son die an agonizing death. Like those we celebrate on Mother's Day, the women we find in Scripture tell their stories from a vast array of settings and situations. They come to us scheming or flourishing, despairing or withering, but the confrontation is always real.

The humanity found in the Bible is not readily something I would call a hard truth of Scripture. But in some ways, it is one of the harder truths with which we must reckon. It is perhaps more comfortable to line up with images of life on greeting cards than with stories of struggle, jealousy, despair, and imperfection. And yet, it is in a story weighted with the certainty of humanness that God became human Himself. To real and wanting people, a real God came near.

Hannah's hope came as she was able to express her grief and position, and it was here that she found God. Scripture imparts, “In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the LORD. And she made a vow, saying, 'O LORD Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his life'“ (1 Samuel 1:10-11). In tearful honesty, she sought Him. And Hannah's pain in childlessness became her child's link to God.

The images of motherhood in Scripture give us insights into ourselves, into our mothers, into the pain of lost hope, and the ache of longed-for identities. Many of these women describe what it's like to feel abandoned by God, to cry out as with nothing -- and everything -- to lose. Their lives encourage us to seek God where He can be found, even along roads that aren't what we expected. Their real and difficult stories have been given a place in HIS story, and this speaks volumes into our own.

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Copyright © 2006 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

About ten years ago, I found my mother sitting at the kitchen table. She was reading and chuckling in frustration, so I asked her what she was looking at.

She told me that she'd been studying Proverbs for her devotions and that she'd just read chapter 31, which lists the qualities of a virtuous wife. She was frustrated because she realized she could never be the woman God describes there. We talked about it some more, and my mom finally arrived at a decision that still inspires me today: she decided to take on the challenge, one verse at a time. She said: “I'll work on the first item in the list. When I've got that one mastered, I'll move to the next one-hopefully I'll be a virtuous woman before I die.”

I recently checked in with her to see how she was progressing. She laughed and told me she was seven or eight items into the list but was currently stuck on, “Her children call her blessed.” She said, “I might have to wait for all of them to grow out of their teens before I can accomplish that one.”

Last year, my sisters and I got together and made a Certificate of Completion in Proverbs 31 Training. We took every verse and came up with an example of when she had fulfilled that requirement. When the certificate was finished, it looked like a real diploma and listed her many accomplishments. We all signed it, including my dad.

I read it out loud to her, and when I got to the last verse, “Her children call her blessed,” one by one each of us said, “Mom, you are blessed.” She cried and cried - she had finally reached her life's goal!

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Source: Preaching Today, http://www.preachingtoday.com/

There is an old hymn by Frederick William Faber written in memory of Catholic martyrs during the time of King Henry VIII. Somehow this hymn made its way into the Baptist Hymnal due to its militant call to remain vigilant in spiritual battle and steadfast in the defense of truth.

Though it has been many years since I have sung this hymn, it is something I clearly recall singing in my childhood. Maybe you can recall the melody as you read these words:

Faith of our fathers! living still

In spite of dungeon, fire and sword,

O how our hearts beat high with joy

Whene’er we hear that glorious word!

Faith of our fathers, holy faith!

We will be true to thee till death!

While this hymn is an appeal for faith and faithfulness to God, it would do well for us not only to affirm the faith of our fathers, but also to honor and celebrate the faith of our mothers.

This Mother’s Day weekend, I have cause to celebrate the gift and grace of godly mothers. I was blessed to have a godly, Christian mother who filled our home with faith, hope and love. I rejoice to share my life with a godly wife and mother whose faith, perseverance and sacrifice are mirrored in our children’s lives. And together we have the joy of seeing our daughter and daughter-in-law shepherding our grandchildren toward the knowledge of God and the Gospel of Christ in their own families.

The Scriptures are filled with the courageous examples of women of faith who trusted God and followed the Lord Jesus Christ.

Jochebed, the mother of Moses, hid him after his birth and placed him in an ark among the reeds of the Nile. God honored her faith by allowing Pharaoh’s daughter to find Moses and by giving Jochebed the privilege of nursing, nurturing and sowing seeds of faith into this baby boy. Years later, Moses “refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward” (Hebrews 11:24b-26 ESV). Who helped shaped Moses’ faith and courage? His mother.

Hannah knew the pain and alienation of infertility. She had an open heart, but empty arms -- similar to my own family’s story that led us to adoption. In God’s time and through His grace, Samuel was born to Hannah, and by faith, she offered him back to the Lord. God raised Samuel up as a mighty prophet -- a man who is often seen responding to the voice of God. From whom do I believe Samuel first learned to listen to God? His mother.

Ruth demonstrated remarkable faith in the book that bears her name. She was a Gentile outcast and, yet, she experienced God’s grace through a kinsman-redeemer. And God used Ruth to fulfill His prophetic plan: “Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David the king ... [and] Mary, of whom Jesus was born” (Matthew 1:5-6, 16 ESV). Who in Obed’s life said the words that will forever be etched in Scripture, “ ... and your God shall be my God”? His mother.

Think of Mary, the earthly mother of Jesus -- a woman of extreme faith. At the risk of public scorn and shame, she surrendered her body to God’s providential purpose in bearing the Savior of the world. Even Joseph, her betrothed husband, doubted her. Yet Mary endured the suspicion of immoral action, the tension of Jesus’ public rejection, and faced the horror of His sacrifice, following her Son to the foot of the cross. Who was rewarded for her faith at the resurrection of Jesus? His mother.

And what about Eunice and Lois? The apostle Paul named these remarkable women in connection with Timothy, Paul’s protégé in ministry and partner in church planting. Who were Eunice and Lois, and who taught young Timmy from childhood “the sacred writings which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ”? (2 Timothy 3:15). His mother and grandmother.

We do well to remember the faith of our mothers!

May I suggest this: Take time to give thanks for a mother’s faith. Call, write, tell her of your gratitude, not just for all she’s done, but also for her faith. Fan the flames of her faith!

Encourage a mother who is in the battle seeking to live out her faith in these difficult days. Pray for her. Commend her. Offer to help her in some practical way.

Mother’s Day 2004 was the last occasion I had to tell my mom of my gratitude for her faith and faithfulness to God before her passing. This weekend as I think of her, I encourage you to remember and rejoice in the gift of a godly mother.

Faith of our [mothers], holy faith!

We will be true to thee till death!

Celebrating Mother’s Day was always a peaceful and joy-filled experience as I grew up in a loving, Christian, two-parent home. I remember working diligently on the obligatory homemade gift projects we were given as schoolchildren in order to present something to my mom that would conjure a smile, thanks and a hug. Mother’s Day served as an annual reminder to say, “Thank you.” To be honest, I never thought deeply about the annual celebration until later into my adulthood.

I have since come to discover there can be a lot of pain, heartache and grief associated with this particular holiday. Ignorance is bliss, right?

I had grown up dreaming less about being a mom and more about one day being a wife. I clung to passages of Scripture like Proverbs 3:5-6 that provided instruction to trust God in all things. I just believed that in His time I would be married with the traditional two-and-a-half children, white picket fence and a dog. Since those were the examples I saw around me, it seemed like the natural progression of life.

By age 27, I met my best friend, Tony, and began the journey of marriage. During those first couple of years, we weren’t necessarily trying to get pregnant, but we weren’t avoiding it. Meanwhile, it seemed like everyone around us started getting pregnant.

The awkwardness of being married with no children began to creep in. Well-meaning people would summon a smile and say, “We are praying for you” or comment at a baby shower, “You’re next!”

I knew God was sovereign over the womb, but I wondered what was going on. Was there something wrong with me?

When God began to open our eyes to the fatherless, it was our theology, not our biology, that led us toward international adoption. Seeing in the Scripture that God describes Himself as the Father of the fatherless and calls His people to care for orphans compelled us to ask what we could do for the fatherless.

Two years after initially wrestling with that idea, we found ourselves in a cold, smelly orphanage in the middle of Ukraine.

Our four Ukrainian-born children shuffled into the small office hand-in-hand, cautious and curious. I sometimes try to imagine what must have been going through their minds. Who were these two watery-eyed people smiling at them and asking to become their new mommy and daddy? All I can say is that it was both bizarre and beautiful.

God was working fiercely in my heart. How can a little person made in the image of God, yet not of your flesh and blood, become your son or daughter? This scenario was not what I had in my mind earlier in life. His ways are not our ways; His thoughts are higher.

Six weeks later we came home as a family. Fifteen months after that, we brought our youngest child home from Ethiopia.

“Welcome to the club of motherhood!” others said.

While I appreciated the sentiment, I sensed a prompting in my spirit to caution against assuming a new identity. The reality was, my identity changed at age 12 when, by God’s saving grace, my eyes were opened to the incredible collision of justice and mercy at the cross of Christ. It was then that I was no longer a child of wrath and I became a child of God -- an adopted daughter. So, this new status of motherhood was simply a new role to steward, albeit a weighty one.

“He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!” Psalm 113:9 (ESV) states.

Parenting children from broken pasts can have moments of great joy as well as moments of great heartache. Watching fits of rage dwindle over time and transition to healthier coping behaviors is amazing. The kicking, screaming and clawing slowly transformed into the ability to, through their tears, talk through the issue at hand.

I witnessed giggles and awed faces at the beach as they dipped their toes in the water and watched waves crash for the first time. I heard exclamations like, “This is the best day of my life,” as we fought crowds at Disney World. These moments have filled my heart with incredible joy.

But there are times of great setbacks, challenges and questionings. It breaks my heart to hear these same children say, “What kind of mom just gives her child away!” or “It bothers me when people keep asking if I’m adopted. Why do they want to know?”

Amid defiant, disrespectful and dishonoring behavior, hearing my child scream, “You have no idea what it is like to grow up in an orphanage!” or “You are not my real mother!” has wounded me deeply. It’s tempting to build up walls of protection around my heart.

Sometimes moments of grief come out of nowhere; sometimes my heart feels as if it will burst under the weight of it all. It is a regular fight to rein in my emotions.

Sometimes I even forget we became a family through adoption because I often feel our children were always ours -- but they weren’t. They all came from broken pasts filled with abuse, neglect, death and abandonment.

Oh, the ebb and flow of joy and sorrow.

It is God’s grace that has enabled me to say with great joy and peace that He kept me from being able to have babies so that I could be mom to each of my children. I am so thankful. I would not trade that for the world.

Yet, I praise the Lord that my identity is not found in being a mother, but in being a daughter of the King. That truth gives me hope in the midst of heartache, courage in the midst of trial and thankfulness for the good gifts that come from His hand.

This Mother’s Day, may we remember those who grieve -- those moms in the midst of difficult adoptions, those who battle infertility, stepmoms, and those who have lost a child or mother. May we think of them, pray for them and encourage them to find joy in the Lord.

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Kimberly Merida is a musician and justice advocate who writes at shownmercy.blogspot.com. She and her husband Tony, pastor of Imago Dei Church in Raleigh, N.C., and a faculty member at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, are the parents of five adopted children. This article first appeared at the Biblical Recorder (www.brnow.org), newsjournal of the Baptist State Convention of North Carolina.