When it comes to mothers worth celebrating (as we are prompted to do on the second Sunday of every May), I am bountifully blessed.  Due to several curious twists and turns along life’s road, I have hit the proverbial Maternal Motherlode.

First there is Joan, my wonderful wife and the mother of two amazing human beings. For seven years, until we tied the knot in 2000, Joan handled one hundred percent of the parenting tasks for her two children… navigating the tumultuous teen times with a firm, yet loving hand.

There is Barbara, mother of my two scintillating sons.

There is Kelli, my oldest son’s spouse. Upon finishing law school and passing the bar in New York state, Kelli instead decided to respond to the higher calling of Mother. Five kids, countless adventures, and twenty-plus years later she is hanging out her shingle once again. 

And who could forget Staci? Staci is my youngest son’s wife, a dynamic career woman, and the mother of three beautiful, talented, kind, and uproariously funny young women. I have no doubt every day in Staci’s home provides them a masterclass on motherhood… should they choose to follow that path.

And please remind me… have I used the word “blessed” yet? I love that word, but it doesn’t begin to cover it when it comes to my feelings toward Bette. Bette is my step (or bonus) mom who is still with us, still alert, still awake, and still living on her own. Bette also just celebrated her 102^nd birthday a few weeks ago. 

These are the mothers who often get Happy Mother’s Day cards and words of appreciation from me. I stand in awe of everything it takes to fulfill the role of MOTHER… especially in the world we live in now.

But today I reserve my most heartfelt words of love and appreciation for my mother, Ruth Evelyn Raymond Brown. 

Mom died of lymphoma in 1970 at the age of 42. Extremely thin, weak, and pale, she somehow managed to attend my high school graduation just weeks before passing away. She got sick a couple of months earlier and was horribly misdiagnosed (Mono? “Cat fever?” WTH??) until it was too late to do anything. 

Almost exactly one year prior to mom’s death, the family had packed up and moved 2,500 miles west from Hilliard, Ohio to one of the northern suburbs of Seattle, Washington. A newly minted United Methodist pastor, my father apparently decided a change of scenery would do us all good. Never mind that the move happened during the summer before my senior year of high school.

Throughout dad’s tumultuous period of career change and vocational discernment, mom was the calm guiding hand of the family ship of state. She was never swayed by the emotional tides of the moment, instead helping the rest of us keep our eyes fixed on God and the horizon.

Mom had a home economics degree from The Ohio State University and a promising career ahead of her as a writer for a limited circulation outdoor adventure magazine. The daughter of a career diplomat with the US Department of Agriculture, mom traveled the world before coming back to Ohio and enrolling in college. In fact, my siblings and I did a lot of horsing (or maybe “cameling”?) around on a camel saddle she once brought back from a trip to Egypt.

With my mother’s brains, skill, communication skills, drive, and easygoing way with people, she could have chosen from a wide variety of career paths. 

The one she chose was MOM.

Mom was the soft heart whenever dad was angry or out of sorts. She sat and listened patiently when any of the five of us needed to vent. She quietly but firmly corrected us whenever we were tempted to tease, cut corners, wallow, or give up. She was our first Sunday School teacher, our first cheerleader, our first guidance counselor, our first tutor, and our first Confessor. 

At each of my critical crossroads, I have paused to ask, “What would mom say if I told her what I am going through right now? How would she encourage/push/challenge/support me?”

I light a candle in her memory every Sunday at church as a way of silently thanking her for everything she gave me, dad, and my four siblings during her short, wonderful life. It was in her presence that I developed my first inkling of the concept of Love Incarnate… an inkling that profoundly shaped my own call to the ministry.

Since I was still a misguided, self-centered, knucklehead of a teenager when mom died, I am certain I failed to give her even a fraction of the thanks I owe her. So this mother’s day, to this mother who was love in the flesh for everyone who knew her, I offer these timeless thoughts on LOVE from the Apostle Paul. If appropriate to your situation, substitute the word “mom” whenever you see the word “love.”

“Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7, NRSVU).

ABUNDANT BLESSINGS;