Many of you know that I was a foster child so I have actually had many mothers.
Mothers can come in many forms: big sisters, friends, aunts, older-wiser women in your life who care about you, pray for you, and sacrificially invest into your life with an encouraging word, a hug, a nice note, a kind action, or a knowing smile.

As a kid, in my new foster home, my two sisters and I asked Jesus to be Lord of our lives as soon as we understood the Gospel. One of our first questions after that was:

“Will we see our mother in heaven?”

Because they didn’t know our mother our new parents could only say: “We’re sorry but, we really don’t know if she received Christ or not. Let’s hope that she did.”

Well, one day a couple of years later my older sister Cindy received a trunk full of our mother’s belongings. (Don’t ask me why it took so long – but I might not have recalled this next scene if I was still only five.) I remember Cindy coming out of the bedroom with a small Gideon New Testament in her hand expressing her joy and excitement in what had been written by our mother on the inside back cover.

In the back of that little Bible was printed what is known as “The Sinner’s Prayer” and underneath our mother had signed and dated in her own handwriting “On this day I received Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.” We cried . . .

I don’t know if that grabs you but it certainly does me – some fifty-plus years later. You see, I will once again see the woman that gave me birth. I remember many lessons she taught me as a child and I will be able to say thanks.

Yes, we will be overwhelmed by God’s glory and goodness. We will worship Him forever. We will also be able to finally meet “this great cloud of witnesses” the writer in Hebrews describes. I can’t wait for it all!

So, thanks mom. Thanks for who you were, how you protected me, how you taught me, and how you loved me. You knew you were dying and you stayed with us as a “normal” mother to the very end. I’m looking forward to seeing you again. And while we’re being all mushy and stuff . . . I just want to say that I’m sorry for:

• stealing those cough drops at the drug store,
• beating up on my big sisters with my rubber knife while pretending to be Peter Pan
• declaring war with Timmy and Joey on that little lady in the park
• doing that “science experiment thing” with Susan and Cindy’s pet turtles
• stopping up all the sinks, turning on all the faucets, and locking you out of the quickly flooding house
• not wearing my shoes and stepping on those five rusty nails at once – I still remember the pain . . . on your face . . .
• feeding my cold split pea soup to the dog and telling you I was “all finished”
• and most of all, that unkind thing I said to you the day before you went to the hospital for the last time
• sorry . . .

Love you all,

Steve

 

Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and so that you may prosper.  Deut. 5:16

Portions from a previous “Steve’s Blog”