Summary: A short meditation to encourage our mothers in their disciple-making role.
THE VALUE OF MOM
RMBC 12 May 02 AM
Well, again, Happy Mother’s Day!
One thing we all have in common today is that we have mothers.
So, in just a moment, we are going to hear two testimonies about what their mom has meant to them.
And then, after that, I am going to take a few moments and share a short message to our moms, which, if you listen closely, will have application to us all.
ILL Notebook: Mother (Survivor)
Have you heard about the next planned "Survivor" show?
Six men will be dropped on an island with 1 van and 4 kids each, for 6 weeks.
Here are the challenges:
Each kid plays two sports and either takes music or dance classes
There is no access to fast food
Each man must take care of his 4 kids, keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, etc.
There is only one TV between them and there is no remote.
The men only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done
The men must shave their legs and wear makeup daily, which they must apply themselves either while driving or while making four lunches.
They must attend weekly PTA meetings, clean up after their sick children at 3 am, make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla, and one Magic Marker, and get a 4-year-old to eat a serving of peas.
The kids vote them off based on performance. The winner gets to go back to his job.
Did anybody around here have the nerve to say being a mother is an easy job?
No, we dare not say that.
Yet, our culture is rather confused about the subject.
Motherhood is not valued as a vocation.
Motherhood is not appreciated as a skill.
Motherhood is not considered a sacred calling.
ILL Notebook: Mother (Research Associate)
When Marg was picking up her children at school, another mother she knew well rushed up to her. Emily was fuming with indignation. "Do you know what you and I are?" she demanded. Before Marg could answer, Emily blurted out the reason for her question. It seemed she had just returned from renewing her driver’s license at The County Clerk’s office. Asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation, Emily had hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
“What I mean is,” explained the recorder, “do you have a job, or are you just a . . .?”
“Of course I have a job,” snapped Emily. “I’m a mother.”
“We don’t list ‘mother’ as an occupation, but ‘housewife’ covers it,” said the recorder emphatically.
The next day, Marg found herself in the same situation, this time at the Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high-sounding title like “Official Interrogator” or “Town Registrar.”
“And what is your occupation?” she probed.
What made her say it, Marg does not know. The words simply popped out. “I’m a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.”
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair, and looked up as though she had not heard right. Marg repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then she stared with wonder as her pompous pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.