Category: Holiday

None of us would be here without our mothers. Likewise, none who is a mother would be the same without their children… without all the joys, tears, and teaching embedded within the obviously, divinely-designed experience.

As I wrestled with what I most wanted to say — about why we love our moms, appreciate our moms, thank them, bless them, and why we miss them when they’re gone, why they miss us when not near — acknowledging that this day is merry for some and mournful for others — or maybe a little bit of both for several of us — I saw this comment from one parent: “I almost missed the incredible gift in front of me.”

… missing the gift… I don’t want to miss the gift…

I used to think that as a parent, we would engage in all this teaching. We would teach and train our kids, training them up in the way they should go, and it would be this amazing, educational experience. Whether it’s for biological or adoptive children… whether is for young ones who we are called to be a “mom” to… it would be this awesome, sharpening experience. And it is…

For us.

I almost missed the gift that the teaching would have on me.

Said by one parent who seems to have realized that, from “Love That Boy” by Ron Fournier, a nationally known journalist and parent to a special needs teen…

“… Our son is learning to connect and belong, and we know he will be a happy, thriving adult. Rather than sweat over his Asperger’s, I see how much I’d miss if he wasn’t an Aspie — his humor, his bluntness, his unaffected obsessions with everything from video games to family.

In the spring of 2014, my father died. Mom decided to rent a boat and scatter Dad’s ashes in the Detroit River. After my mother, my siblings, and our families had boarded the boat, we filled the 30-minute ride with awkward conversation. How’s the job? How about those Tigers?

My sister, Raquel, lost her composure, dashing below to find a bathroom. She almost ran into Tyler at the bottom of the stairs. He recognized her distress and said, ‘I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, but I can give you a hug.’

That was exactly what she needed. ‘He hugged me so tight. And kept hugging me,’ Raquel told me later. ‘It meant the world to me.’

At the appointed spot, the boat stopped. Raquel poured Dad’s ashes over the side, while Mom stood alone behind her. My brothers made eye contact with me. What should we do?

Rather than step forward to comfort Mom, I stepped back. It was not my finest hour. But Tyler exceeded my expectations, walking over to hold his grandmother tightly. He whispered to her, ‘Everyone thinks I’m comforting you, but really I need comforting.’

Finally, I know what perfect is. It’s a child blessed with the grace to show goodness, even on the worst of days. No, Tyler is not my idealized son. He is my ideal one.”

I think that’s it. I think that’s what I most want to say. I like how this parent sees his child as the “ideal one.”

We don’t get to pick our parents. We don’t get to pick our children. But I used to think it was the parent that always teaches the child. What I’ve since learned is that the children teach us even more.

With a heart that is humbled and sometimes knows not exactly how to say all there is to say…

Happy Mothers Day…
AR

[Borrowed and slightly edited from a blog by Justin Taylor, Crossway Sr. VP & publisher, in a historical account giving each of us hope amidst our pain — putting life into perspective… still relevant when Christmas is done for the year…]

In March of 1863, 18-year-old Charles Appleton Longfellow walked out of his family’s home on Brattle Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and—unbeknownst to his family—boarded a train bound for Washington, DC., over 400 miles away, in order to join President Lincoln’s Union army to fight in the Civil War. Charles was the oldest of six children born to Fannie Elizabeth Appleton and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the celebrated literary critic and poet. Charles had five younger siblings: a brother (aged 17) and three sisters (ages 13, 10, 8—another one had died as an infant).

Less than two years earlier, Charles’s mother Fannie had died from a tragic accident when her dress caught on fire. Her husband, awoken from a nap, tried to extinguish the flames as best he could, first with a rug and then his own body, but she had already suffered severe burns. She died the next morning, and Henry Longfellow’s facial burns were severe enough that he was unable even to attend his own wife’s funeral. He would grow a beard to hide his burned face and at times feared that he would be sent to an asylum on account of his grief.

When Charley (as he was called) arrived in Washington D.C. he sought to enlist as a private with the 1st Massachusetts Artillery. Captain W. H. McCartney, commander of Battery A, wrote to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow for written permission for Charley to become a solider. HWL (as his son referred to him) granted the permission.

Longfellow later wrote to his friends [Sen.] Charles Sumner, [Gov.] John Andrew, and Edward Dalton (medical inspector of the Sixth Army Corps) to lobby for his son to become an officer. But Charley had already impressed his fellow soldiers and superiors with his skills, and on March 27, 1863, he was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the 1st Massachusetts Cavalry, assigned to Company “G.”

After participating on the fringe of the Battle of Chancellorsville in Virginia (April 30-May 6, 1863), Charley fell ill with typhoid fever and was sent home to recover. He rejoined his unit on August 15, 1863, having missed the Battle of Gettysburg.

While dining at home on December 1, 1863, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow received a telegram that his son had been severely wounded four days earlier. On November 27, 1863, while involved in a skirmish during a battle of of the Mine Run Campaign, Charley was shot through the left shoulder, with the bullet exiting under his right shoulder blade. It had traveled across his back and skimmed his spine. Charley avoided being paralyzed by less than an inch.

He was carried into New Hope Church (Orange County, Virginia) and then transported to the Rapidan River. Charley’s father and younger brother, Ernest, immediately set out for Washington, D.C., arriving on December 3. Charley arrived by train on December 5. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was alarmed when informed by the army surgeon that his son’s wound “was very serious” and that “paralysis might ensue.” Three surgeons gave a more favorable report that evening, suggesting a recovery that would require him to be “long in healing,” at least six months.

On Christmas day, 1863, Longfellow—a 57-year-old widowed father of six children, the oldest of which had been nearly paralyzed as his country fought a war against itself — wrote a poem seeking to capture the dynamic and dissonance in his own heart and the world he observes around him. He hears the Christmas bells and the singing of “peace on earth” (Luke 2:14) but observes the world of injustice and violence that seemed to mock the truth of this statement. The theme of listening recurs throughout the poem, leading to a settledness of confident hope even in the midst of bleak despair…

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,
 Their old familiar carols play,
 And wild and sweet the words repeat
, Of peace on earth, good will to men.



I thought how, as the day had come,
 The belfries of all Christendom
, Had rolled along the unbroken song
, Of peace on earth, good will to men.



And in despair I bowed my head:
 “There is no peace on earth,” I said,
 “For hate is strong and mocks the song, 
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

“

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
 “God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
 The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, With peace on earth, good will to men.

“

Till, ringing singing, on its way,
 The world revolved from night to day,
 A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
 Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Respectfully… with hope… always…
AR

Letting the season last… reflecting on the meaning and the fun…

“My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?” ― Bob Hope

“Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.” — Janice Maeditere

“One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.” — Andy Rooney

“Christmas is not just a time for festivity and merry making. It is more than that. It is a time for the contemplation of eternal things. The Christmas spirit is a spirit of giving and forgiving.” — J. C. Penney

“Christmas can be celebrated in the school room with pine trees, tinsel and reindeers, but there must be no mention of the man whose birthday is being celebrated. One wonders how a teacher would answer if a student asked why it was called Christmas.” ― Ronald Reagan

“Oh look, yet another Christmas TV special! How touching to have the meaning of Christmas brought to us by cola, fast food, and beer… Who’d have ever guessed that product consumption, popular entertainment, and spirituality would mix so harmoniously?” ― Bill Watterson

“Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.” — Dale Evans

“Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn’t come from a store.” — Dr. Seuss

“I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a note on it, saying, ‘Toys not included.’ ” — Bernard Manning

“He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.” — Charlotte Carpenter

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” — Charles Dickens

“The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live.” — George Carlin

“Want to keep Christ in Christmas? Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the unwanted, care for the ill, love your enemies, and do unto others as you would have done unto you.” ― Steve Maraboli

“Off to one side sits a group of shepherds. They sit silently on the floor, perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement. Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to hear him–and so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.” — Max Lucado

“Look for Christ and you will find Him. And with Him, everything else.” – C.S. Lewis

And a portion of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s message, to be repeated often and soon:

“And in despair I bowed my head;
‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said;
‘For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!’

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
‘God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!’ “

May the truths of the season stay with us all year long.

Respectfully…
AR