A Mother's Sacrifice

Now where did I see that story? It was so beautiful, so touching…so full of mother love that I absolutely wanted to share it with you.

 We are happy to realise that most mothers would be willing to give their all for their children, but fortunately most of us aren't asked to make such great sacrifices.

But one mother was. She rose instantly to the occasion. Now this is where the details become a little blurry in my mind but not enough to make an impact on the story!

They had gone camping, out in the mountains. They had stopped along some little used road to look around at the breathtaking view below and around them. The children soon jumped back into the suburban. The vehicle started rolling. Downwards! The mother saw what was happening! But what could she do? What?! She ran! She threw herself down in front of that heavy van. She felt the impact, but it slowed, it slowed the momentum and it didn't go hurtling into the chasm below.  By then, her husband, who was on the other side of the vehicle managed to leap in and turn it off.

But was she hurt? You better believe it. Did she die? No. Thank God she survived but at a great cost. For years she underwent surgery, therapy and what not all, but was never able to walk again.

Was it worth it? By the light on her face in the picture, and the adoration of the children, she knew it was.

Some of you might find it painful to read a story like this. Your mother never cared. You’re sure your mother never did or would do anything sacrificial for you. Jesus knows that. He knows where you are. But He cares. Here’s a powerful promise. It’s found in the Bible but I’ll put it in my own words.

“Can a mother forget the baby she is nursing? Yes, it could happen, but God will never forget you.” Isaiah 49:15. In another place it says that the hairs on our head are all numbered. I think Jesus mentioned that to show how interested, how He cares about every single detail in our lives.

Maybe your earthly mother and father have left your with an aching void of loneliness in your heart, or maybe you have it in spite of their tender loving care. I didn't

grow up in a happy home either, but since I have been turning to God in my moments of pain and heartache, He has been, is comforting me, and I am finding healing. You can to.

YOU CAN'T TAKE MY BABY

Okay, I've skirted the issue long enough. It's high time we stopped wondering what the neighbours thought and see and feel it from Claudine's viewpoint. As a mother I find this awful hard to write because what she experienced had to be painful to put it mildly.

“Okay, Jannie boy, let's do it again.” She clapped his pudgy little hands together and sang a playful, made up rhyme. The baby's pink cheeks were wreathed in smiles so of course the mother's heart was light with joy also. His sweet cooing was like music to her ears.

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“I'm coming to take the baby.”

“WHAT?”

“You heard me right, ma'am. We've tried with all patience and perseverance to get you to see the errors of you ways, but you refuse.”

Jesus' First Day of School

There was a tender look in Mary’s eyes as she watched her small son slip his hand into Joseph’s large, calloused one. He skipped along as carefree as a lark down the dusty, village street while the muted light of early dawn cast a glow on the white mud-brick houses and nearby palm trees. As sure as her given name was Mary’am, she knew that no longer would Jesus be her baby, but he would grow up and away from her. Today, at five, he was skipping off to the synagogue school for the first time, so totally unafraid. It was she that had the mixed emotions. It was she that longed to hold him close just a little bit longer, but nay, he must go, and grow, and there was nothing she could do about it but hope for the best and pray for his safety. 

               Safety; Mary shuddered and drew her shawl closer although it was not a cold day. How well she remembered the terrifying night when they fled to Egypt. He was just a wee lad, then. Not even out of his swaddling clothes, and they had to pack with such haste and escape with their lives while the shouts of soldiers, screams of mothers, and wails of babies ricocheted all around them.  Then her panicky breathing slowed. HaShem had protected them then, and He would protect them now. After all Jesus (Yeshua) was His Son; His only begotten son.

               A small hand was tugging at her garments, and a plaintive voice penetrated her consciousness. James was up and getting hungry.  As she tended to the needs of the little ones, prepared the daily bread and tended the chickens and goat, her thoughts wended off down to that orderly synagogue school.

               It was so easy to picture Jesus sitting there, cross-legged like all the rest, in a semi-circle around their teacher. She frowned slightly. I do hope that the school master will be patient with him if he speaks out of turn. He is such a bright, inquisitive lad that it will be hard to restrain himself when a question pops into his dark, curly head.

               Joseph stooped to enter the door right then, and he reached for the Torah as Mary laid out the breakfast food on the table. It was rare for them to eat without their eldest son, but since this was his very first day at the synagogue school they thought it best if he ate a little earlier so that he would get there in plenty of time.

During a lull in the childish prattle that filled their two room house, Mary thought she could faintly hear the chanting of a dozen voices come floating down the street. She smiled gently. Yeshua (Jesus) is in good hands, and when he comes home his father and I will continue to nurture and guide him to the very best of our ability.

This is NOT part of Mary's Diary, but if you think I should insert it somewhere in the second edition which will be printed soon, please let me know.
 Mary's Diary; the Life of Jesus through His Mother's Eyes is available from iuniverse, Amazon, and elsewhere. www.iuniverse.bookstore