I think mothers are the best artists. The brush strokes they apply to the canvas of our lives contribute significantly to who we are (yes, even finger paint and numbered water colors). The steady molding and massaging of the sculpture that makes us who we are takes form in her children as she sees opportunities for our growth (not quite like the 3rd grade coffee cup you brought home for her). The rhyme and rhythm of the song she sang to us when we were in her womb, or when we fell and scraped our knee, and on the day we got married. Our moms are uniquely gifted by God to be masterful artists as they paint, sculpt, and sing into who we are.
Painting Memories
I can still hear the wind whistling through the screen on the back porch of my Grandma’s old farmhouse. I can smell the aroma of bacon and grits and biscuits that would waft from the kitchen where she spent countless hours as a labor of love to her children and grandchildren. There is still an echo in my mind of the creaks and the cracks from the planks beneath the rocking chairs that danced to the rhythm of the stories she would tell me of days gone by.
My paternal grandmother, Windle Prosser, was a master storyteller. More accurately, she was the best at sharing memories. She instilled in me, at an early age, the quality of listening intently to what she was saying, and what she wasn’t. I can see her eyes blazing with passion as she’d tell me stories from her youth, and I can still see those same eyes that would stare a country mile away as she’d stop the story for a moment when it would take an emotional turn.
She was fun. She was the best at making memories. Even when there was work to do on the farm, she would make it enjoyable. “Windy” knew how to reach the heart of her grandson. Every time limbs and sticks needed to be gathered from beneath the two giant 100-year-old live oak trees in the yard, she’d start a fire in the burn barrel and we’d have so much fun keeping the fire going. When her grandson needed a snack, a quick jaunt to the country store for Fig Newtons and Mountain Dew was in order (yes, not the healthiest of options, but fun!).
Even after dementia took its roots in her mind, and she’d tell me the same story every few minutes, my grandma still remembered so much of whom she had raised in her son, her grandson, and her great grandsons. On the day that my dad and I officiated her funeral, her memories lived on as we told some of those old stories, and her friends and family gathered beneath those two old oak trees to share a few memories of their own.
Sculpting Identity
My wife and I are raising 3 young men. Yes, they are only 13, 11, and 7, but we know that our time with them is short. I’ve heard it said that while the days are long, the years are short, so we are passionately pursuing our three sons and their hearts to continually confirm who God made them to be.
My wonderful wife, Christina, is the most amazing mother. I’ve listened to her, from just within earshot, as she teaches them various life lessons. The gentle nature and clear direction that she possesses as she guides their hearts is remarkable. I admire her dedication and devotion to give them the tools that they need to be successful now and in the future.
Christina has exemplified what it means to meet each of our children right where they are. All three of our men are so different from the next, yet her ability to speak into one of their hearts so uniquely is beautiful. The responsibility to sculpt their God-given identity is not a task that she takes lightly. In a world that wants to tell her boys that they are anything and everything but God’s creation and her sons, she is fiercely determined to speak the Truth into their hearts and minds in a way that leaves them doubtless of who they are, who they are not, and who they can be in Christ.
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Christina learned so much from her mom Linda, who was taught by her mom Shirley. The generational guild of identity sculptors is vital to the well-being of our present and future. We need our moms to shape and mold us as we learn who we are and who God made us to be.
Singing Inspiration
My mom, Rhonda has a beautiful voice. She sings like no other. She taught me and my twin sisters to sing at a very early age. To this day, when we are all together, someone will break out a song and a three-part harmony ensues.
Encouragement comes in all shapes and forms. The two things I can still hear my mom say to this day are “24/7” and “I love you and I’m proud of you.” She regularly reminded me (often as I left the house with the car keys) that I was a child of God and that I was to live for Him 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. Every day that I lived in her home and so many days since, I have heard her say that she loves me and that she is proud of me.
God gave her that amazing voice to sing inspiration and encouragement into her children. On the lowest of days – when I’ve been tired, hurt, angry, or felt all alone – my phone will ring or I’ll get a text from her beautiful voice encouraging me. She has faithfully used her voice to bring rhyme and rhythm into the hearts of her children.
Some of the sweetest tunes I’ve heard her whisper are her prayers. She has been a prayer warrior for her children and grandchildren. If I was ever worried about something or unsure of what to do, I knew to take it to my mom and she would know just what to say and to whom she should say it. I truly believe that my mom sings in such a way as to please the heart of our Heavenly Father.
A Masterful Resemblance
Perhaps God gives us our mother and grandmothers to show us a glimpse of the artist that He is. When we look at the splendor of our God as the perfect Creator, His masterpiece is on full display. Yes, the height of Everest and the depths of the Grand Canyon and the vastness of the Milky Way exclaim His greatness, but His greatest masterpiece is you. He created you uniquely and beautifully.
He gives us our mom to paint memories on our canvas so that we will remember all of His works in us and around us. He blesses us with a sculptor understudy who will be used by Him to mold us into who He wants us to be for His purpose. God blesses us with a mom who can use her voice to inspire and encourage us when we need.
Mom- you are vital to a flourishing family. Thank you for your artistry in your child’s life. Thanks for teaching us to fingerpaint, collecting our knick-knacks, and singing those sweet nursery rhymes.
Children of moms (all of us)- thank God for your mom. Embrace His grace in your life in the mom he gave you. And if she’s still around, tell your mom you love her today.
Happy Mother’s Day!