I caught myself watching her during worship on Sunday. So sincere. So genuine. So seemingly in love.
I caught myself watching her again the other night. She owns the kitchen. Boiling water for tea. Bringing honey to ensure the perfect flavor is attained. Surprising me with a sliced apple and a Vitamin C tablet (yeah, I got another cold).
We have stayed with her the last two weekends. Three to four girls descend on her living space with bags and needs and a symphony of snores because none of us can really breath in our congested state. Her room is always ready for our arrival, warm and inviting. She wakes early, makes us breakfast and is sure to turn the water heater on just in case we should miraculously rise in time to entertain a shower.
So you can imagine my surprise when she turned to me and said,
“You are like the mother I never had”
Her eyes were glistening.
The words caught me off guard. But she had said them, I heard her. Rebecca smiled gently so as to confirm that my ears had not made it up. Not certain how to respond I went with my instinct and wrapped her up in a hug. Little did I consider that in the response I was solidifying the statement.
How is it that one so adept as serving and doing so so selflessly could look to me and see a missing puzzle piece? On the outside she is more the mother than I. And yet, something in our interaction spoke to her…
Maybe I should have clued in when at 18 she didn’t know how to braid hair but I didn’t. I just set to the task of fulfilling the request to teach her. When she did it right I praised her. When she struggled I offer kind correction. When she enters the room I smile. I find myself sharing in her excitement when there is noticeable improvement in her English pronunciation because it is in fact something to be celebrated. These all seem normal interactions to me but then I have an exceptional mother as my example.
What I’ve come to realize in the time since she extended me the compliment is that the Lord used behaviors that required no extra effort on my part to speak to apart of her heart that yearned to be…to be, nurtured?
Nurtured.
Nurturing.
I can honestly say I have never given a moments thought to describing myself with that word.
Oh, how often this journey surprises me.
This journey that Augustine captured so well in his notable work Confessions, “How can you draw close to God when you are far from your own self?” He prayed: “Grant, Lord, that I may know myself that I may know thee.”
Among other lessons, the Lord has showed me two things so far this month: 1) teaching myself to braid has proven to be the gift that keeps on giving and 2) He has woven into me the maternal ingredient of nurturer.
Watching the daughter I never had serve me joyfully and continuously no one is more surprised than I.
We took you just as you were. We were never patronizing, never condescending, but we cared for you the way a mother cares for her children. We loved you dearly. Not content to just pass on the Message, we wanted to give you our hearts. And we did.
I Thessalonians 2: 7-8
The Message
