My 62nd
Mother’s Day
May 4, 2010
By Bob Young
As I sit to write another Mother’s Day article, I have to admit something. I am not an expert on
mothering—I am an expert on being mothered. I am an observer of mothers, but I will not be
so bold as to write about how to be a good mother. My expertise comes from receiving my
mother’s love, attention, discipline, and support. I want to reflect upon my mother and those
experiences. As I honor my mother, I seek to honor mothers in general. I hope you will think
about and appreciate your mother.
My mother has been gone 16 ½ years. I was only 45 when she died prematurely in an auto
accident. That experience, which now seems long ago, taught me that one must decide before
the fact whether God is God and whether God is good. When the difficult days and faith
challenges come, it is too late to try to decide what one thinks about God. I know now that I
drew that conclusion from the faith I saw in my mother—a faith that continues to sustain me as
it did her.
My mother had had a stroke about two years before the accident. From that point onward, I
never again went home as a care-receiver, I always went as a care-giver. There were always
things to be done—yard work, house repairs, and special projects. I never again woke up to the
smell of bacon cooking. Life was different; but my mother’s love was the same.
My mother’s death was ultimately a liberating event. Jan and I would probably have never felt
free to move half way across the country to work in higher education at a small Christian
college had we still had the responsibilities of caring for my mother. God works in mysterious
ways.
My mother was a pioneer—not only because her family moved from Missouri to New Mexico in
a covered wagon while she was still an infant, but because of the way she experienced and
endured and overcame life as a single-parent in the middle years of the 20th
century. It seemed
to me then (and still does) that my mother was fearless in a time when there was much to fear.
My mother is my greatest heroine—and greatest hero. She is the standard of excellence for my
life. There were lots of things I did not do as a youngster because I knew it would break my
mother’s heart if she ever found out. She is still my guiding star and great moral compass.
My mother was my greatest fan. She saved everything I wrote—as though it were priceless.
Now I know that it was—at least to her. She was my greatest supporter in preaching. She
would be amazed to know where God has led her boy and his bride since her death—literally
around the world for the Kingdom. She would be proud. Her memory yet compels me.
I cannot tell her "thank you" today, but I can say "thank you" to God for mothers, and for my
mother. May God bless all mothers, and the memories we cherish of the mothers who blessed
and continue to bless our lives.
"Copyright © date, Robert J. Young, from www.bobyoungresources.com. All rights reserved. This material may be freely reprinted so long as no charge is made to the reader and this copyright notice is included."
