As I left the small rural town of my birth and formative years of elementary and secondary education I left a storehouse of memories. But one thought that stayed in my mind for years to come was, home was always where “Mama” was. My mind has lingered upon this concept and frequently I subconsciously say; “I want to go home.”
The writer Rudyard Kipling puts it this way.
If I were hanged on the highest hill, I know whose love would follow me still. Mother of mine. Mother of mine. If I were drowned in the deepest sea, I know whose tears would come down to me. Mother of mine, Mother of mine. If I were damned by body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole. Mother of mine, mother of mine.
There was an interesting story on CNN many years ago about a twenty-five year old man in San Francisco who was dying of aids. Because of that his father had completely disowned him. His mother was dead. So there was nobody. The man looked like he could not weigh over a hundred pounds and had the look of death on his face. The reporter asked him how he was able to stand all of the pain, not only of death, but the pain of family rejection. He gave an interesting answer. He said I stand it by closing my eyes and imagining that I will awaken in the arms of my mother. I know that she will never leave my side.
It is appropriate that we single out a day in the year to recognize mothers, but when we really think about it, there ought not to be a day that goes by that we do not rise up and call our mother blessed. The highest tribute that we can give to our mothers is not to praise her, not to give her a gift, not to pay a visit, and not even simply to come to church on her day. The greatest tribute that we can give to our mother is to be the kind of person that she, and our Heavenly Father, want us to be. Amen.
Editor’s note: For more writings go to dgcoker.com Reflections………Mama May 3, 2016