I can remember sitting in the bathroom as a young girl watching my mother get ready for church. Her hair was thick and the color chocolate. On her almond shaped eyes she smoothed a light blue eye shadow that you could only get away with in the early 80's. I remember thinking how beautiful her fingers were, with her fingernails always filed in a perfect arc.
I was in awe of her.
She was the definition of beauty.
As I grew up I had a standard. I knew what outward beauty looked like firsthand through my mother.
Later I would stand next to her in church and listen to the full sound of her alto voice harmonizing in worship. There was a smoothness in her voice and a confidence that came with someone who sang not only on a Sunday morning but throughout the week, while doing dishes, vacuuming the living room, driving the car or ironing. I learned there could also be beauty in something that I do. My mother's voice, although not one that others would ever be able to hear because she was not fond of microphones or stages, was a voice that I heard and it was beautiful.
As I got older I started to notice that there was something deeper to my mother's beauty. I would watch her as her arms raised while singing in church and tears would slip down her cheeks. I remember thinking about how unique it was that someone would continue singing even when it appeared they were crying. What would make her want to do that?
32 months ago I gave birth to my daughter, we call her Red, and as the nurse laid her on my chest, my face was a pardox. There were tears and a face filled smiled. I gasped with joy, my voice croaking with emotion. I looked and saw the same expression of smile/tears on my husbands face and once again saw that deeply instilled beauty but since this time it was something gushing from my own beating heart I could identify what it was.
My mother's tears and closed eyes and raised hands and singing voice were an outward expression of her love, her love of her Savior. Sometimes her love was seeing her Deliverer. Sometimes it was seeing her Comforter. Sometimes it was seeing her Creator. Sometimes it was seeing her Messiah. Whatever she saw, she responded with love and that started the shift of my focus. My eyes changed from looking at the outward and eventually I was able to see even greater beauty because I saw the inward.
Through my mother I have been able to see that we are most gorgeous/handsome/beautiful when we see and respond to Christ.
This is what we were created for.
Thank you mom for teaching me not just with your mouth but with your life. I could not have asked for anything greater from you. You have given me something that is most loving and priceless. Thank you for letting me see you love Christ and and being an example that I can follow as I show my own daughter.
What is something that you find yourself remembering about your mother today? Write out your reflections below for others to see and share in. Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there who are creating these moments for your children, young and old.