I recently heard a friend sadly remark that this would be his first Christmas without his mother. I empathized with the difficult adjustment that he is making because my own mother has been dead for 26-1/2 years — exactly half my life. Having now lived as long without her as I did with her, I understand more clearly her sacrifices and commitments. I regret that my appreciation for her fell far short of what it should have been.
Neither of our children ever knew a grandmother, and I have often hurt for the empty spot in their experience that only a caring, involved grandmother can fill. I must hasten to say, however, that their mother has been there for them, filling both roles as best she could. She has loved them intently and completely, fully dedicating herself to their success. And she has consistently prayed for them and the various issues and struggles of their lives. She has understood that motherhood is far more than a biological scorecard or a temporary side track on the main line to success.
I believe that a mother's influence is greatly underestimated. There's certainly truth in this line from a famous poem by William Ross Wallace: "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." I rather think, however, that when we are able to look back from the vantagepoint of eternity we will see something far more remarkable.
I believe that we will finally comprehend the full extent to which history's course has been turned, tragedy's wounds have been salved, and "turns for the worse" have been straightened by the love, prayers, and involvement of mothers. I am grateful that my children have had such a mother. I pray that they will not ever have to look back — as I have today — and regret that they didn't appreciate the treasure that had been theirs.
We would all fare better to restore motherhood to the marvelous dignity and position it once enjoyed … while we have the chance.
TO MOTHERS FIRST OF ALL
There's one whom God has tapped from birth
By His own special call
To build His kingdom here on earth,
And "Mother" says it all.
No one can know a mother's heart,
Her hopes, her joys, her fears;
And how she ably plays her part
Midst tests and trials and tears.
She loves the child who goes astray
And comforts each who cries.
She guards her flock by night and day
And will until she dies.
And if a child has gone before
Across that great divide,
Her sorrow here she'll feel no more
Once they stand side by side.
She gets small thanks, earth's pay is poor,
Her labors never end.
But she is rich who knows for sure
Her children are her friends.
The giants of earth will step aside
When Christ each name does call
To give rewards for deeds of life:
To mothers first of all.
Copyright 1998 James McAlister
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