Happy Mother’s Day

Hello Friend,

Thank you for coming on this fine Mother’s Day.

Something a little different with our tea today – a parable.

But before we get to that, please have a seat on my favourite couch. Many years ago I first glimpsed this couch from the back, across a large discount warehouse, and I immediately knew it was meant for me. The modern Queen Anne style, the creamy white with soft taupe and light pink accents, and the cherry wood gracing the backrest and down the armrests. It was the only one they had – like I said, meant for me alone. I didn’t have to think twice. And it’s the perfect place to get comfy and listen to a little story.

In honour of my mom, we’re having one of her favourite cookies – Jam Jams.

Tea? Please help yourself to cream and sugar.

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I’ve often thought that Mother’s Day isn’t only to celebrate mothers who have given birth to and/or raised children. It is a day to celebrate all kinds of mothering.

So in honour of mothers and mother-figures, I’m sharing the Parable of Motherhood by Temple Bailey.

It is written about a woman who starts out in life as a young mother, and who raises her children until they are grown. Perhaps you didn’t walk a journey like this one. Instead, you may have stepped in to the life of a child for part of their journey, as an auntie, a friend, a neighbour, a teacher, or even a stranger; to be mother in a young person’s life even for a moment. This is for you too.

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Parable of Motherhood

by Temple Bailey

The young mother set her foot on the path of life. “Is the way long?” she asked. And her guide said, “Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning.”

But the young mother was happy and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children and gathered flowers for them along the way and bathed with them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them and life was good, and the young mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”

Then night came, and storm, and the path was dark and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle and the children said, “Oh Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come,” and the mother said, “This is better than the brightness of day, for I have taught my children courage.”

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary, but at all times she said to the children, “A little patience and we are there.” So the children climbed and when they reached the top, they said, “We could not have done it without you, Mother.” And the mother, when she lay down that night, looked up at the stars and said, “This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave them courage, today I have given them strength.”

And with the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth, clouds of war and hate and evil — and the children groped and stumbled, and the mother said, “Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.” And the children looked and saw above the clouds an Everlasting Glory, and it guided them and brought them beyond the darkness. And that night the mother said, “This is the best day of all for I have shown my children God.”

And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old, and she was little and bent. But her children were tall and strong and walked with courage. And when the way was rough they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.

And the mother said, “I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know that the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them.”

And the children said, “You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.”

And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said, “We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a Living Presence.”

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Thank you for coming today. See you next time.

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Featured image of pink tulips by Olga Oginskaya from Pixabay