Since this Sunday is Mother’s Day, I would like to take a break in our Pioneer Series this week to pay tribute to my mother. I lost my mother over 30 years ago but one never forgets the love and devotion of a mother. The following is a little glimpse into my life as the daughter of a praying mother.
I was nine years old in the summer of 1960. For me it was a time of paper dolls and tea parties. I was the middle child between two brothers. My mother taught school and dad worked at a nearby factory and farmed to supplement our income.
My parents were from a small community in the foothills of southern Ohio (Adams County). Mother had always dreamed of being a teacher. So, when the opportunity arose, my parents packed all of our belongings and we were off to live near a small college town.
Several years went by, and my mother with degree in hand, was teaching at a near-by high school. One evening at the supper table, my mother asked my father what he would say if she received a phone call asking her to teach in their hometown. Dad laughed. People were trying to leave the impoverished area; go back, what a thought!
Mom was not laughing. She was serious. That summer, my older brother would be twelve. For mom, that was the age of accountability. She was very concerned about her children and their future. In the still of the night, I could hear her praying; she would walk back and forth across her bedroom floor, pleading to God for her children.
In our home, God was not just someone that you read about, like a historical figure. He was our friend, someone you could know, someone to whom you could talk, someone who loved you. Mom thought that if we remained living where we were, her children would be drawn to focus on possessions and things of the world.
After praying about the situation, she felt as if she were in the same situation as Abraham and Lot in the Bible. God was asking her, “Do you want the land that looks good, full of riches and social status?” or “Would you choose the land that is barren and full of rocks?” The later was mom’s choice.
God spoke to Mom in a dream and told her she would receive a phone call asking her to return to her hometown to teach. She wondered could this really be true? The teacher who taught the subject she was qualified to teach had been there for several years and she was sure she had no plans to leave.
Later that evening the phone rang. It was the high school principal of her hometown and he wanted to know if she would be interested in a position that had just become available. Mom was in awe of how God had moved, but still fear gripped her heart. Questions were running through her mind. What would dad say? What would he do about a job? Where would we live?
The rest of the summer was full of packing, selling our home, saying good-bye to friends, and looking for a place to live. My father had decided to quit his job at the factory and go into farming full time. The hitch was finding a farm to buy; the buildings were either in disrepair, the ground poor or the farms were way out of our price range.
Summer was ending. School would be starting before long and things looked hopeless. Mom prayed. She needed to know what to do. God gave her a vision. She saw the sun as it was setting in the west, shining on the corner of a white house with a porch. She knew that this was the house God had chosen for us. Now, if it could just be found. Every place we went, mom would check the house to see how the sun would reflect upon it in the evening. Mom would look at dad and shake her head, no; it was not the right one.
One day as we were driving through the countryside, we stopped at a beautiful farmhouse. Granted it needed a lot of work, but it was everything you could want. It sat on top of a hill. The view was breath taking and it had big beautiful shade trees and a big bank barn. The house had a front and back stair, servant quarters and huge rooms in which to play house with my dolls. It was perfect! I knew this had to be the one God had picked for us. As I was dancing through the rooms, I saw mom shake her head, no, this was not the one. My heart sank. Mother must be wrong.
We drove down the road a short distance and came upon a small white framed house. It sat a few feet from the road. The yard was over grown and it certainly did not have a view. Dad pulled into the yard. The house was empty. After a tour, I was ready to go. The house was small, the wallpaper was peeling, there was no running water, and worst of all there was no bathroom! It was getting late and the sun was starting to set in the west. I saw my mom take a walk to the corner of the house. She looked at dad. This was it! This was the house. Oh, no, I thought, God this cannot be the one.
We moved back to Adams County and the direction of our lives changed forever. It was not easy. We had to take our baths by a potbelly stove and carry in our water. We learned a lot in the years to come. Respect and appreciation for hard work and compassion for our fellow man.
Mom passed away several years ago leaving us an inheritance, not the kind the world would leave, but a spiritual inheritance. We all have choices to make. Mom chose that which would prepare her children to walk in the ways of the Lord. Mark 8:36, What good is it for a man to gain the whole world yet lose his soul. Thanks Mom. I love you!