Time passes and the moments gone…
20th century English writer and philosopher, Aldous Huxley, who authored nearly 50 books– as well as wide-ranging essays, narratives, and poems–maintained, “Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted.”
You can imagine any number of things falling into this “things” category. However, given Mother’s Day is just around the corner, I’ve taken the liberty to move moms to the top of the list.
Writing during the Victorian era, another leading English author, Mary Ann Evans, better know by her pen name, George Eliot, fondly reflected, “Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.”
What a tenderhearted sentiment.
At the moment of conception, a mother begins nurturing the life of her child; each child continuing to draw life from the mother throughout that child’s life. Some unknown wordsmith put it this way, “A mom’s hug lasts long after she lets go.”
Giving life, cradling life, nurturing and enduring life all touch on the sacred: the cherished, blessed, divine. As respected theologian and literary stylist, Eugene Peterson, characterized the mother Mary, during the angelic fanfare surrounding the birth of Jesus, “Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself.”
Mothers have a penetrating capacity for quietly treasuring moments: endearing words, hugs, sights, sounds. Moments held within the heart. Moments often revisited in the midst of what otherwise might be perceived as life’s mundane progression.
Reflection is a gift when it recalls those things we’ve come to hold dear, deep within us. Moments zealously safeguarded in a place where they cannot be easily rooted out by life’s unexpected or, as the Apostle Paul identified, the invasive “enemies of our soul.”
As American screenwriter David Levien explains it, “A person doesn’t remember life as a whole, but as just a string of moments.”
A mother’s heart is imprinted with these moments. Sweet moments intermingled with scars often too deep to hide. The marks of a mother’s birthpangs remain. She can trace them both physically and emotionally. While God enables the memory of pain to fade, the marks remain.
Each child indelibly engraved on her heart, a mother gets to feel her heart swell within her chest until she is certain it will explode from the sheer force of the love she feels.
There is a beautiful portrayal of this in the Old Testament book of Exodus. Aaron, the older brother of Moses, is chosen to advocate on behalf of God’s people; serving as mediator and intercessor. As Exodus 28:29 records, Aaron engraved the names of his children on the breastplate he wore over his heart. Symbolically, each time he came into the presence of a sovereign, compassionate and gracious God, Aaron would bring his children with him. He committed to remember them continuously in the Lord’s presence.
Remember this, this Mother’s Day. There is many a mother who continues to carry you… within her heart. Who continues to labor–sometimes at great cost–to advocate on your behalf, to help birth your dreams. A mother who enters into sacred places with your name engraved on the breastplate worn over her heart.
Take a moment to call, while you can still hear her voice, to say, “Thank you.”
“The bittersweet side of appreciating life’s most precious moments is the unbearable awareness that those moments are passing.”
~Marc Parent
Former Cook County Commissioner Garry Gamble is writing this ongoing column about the various ways government works, as well as other topics. At times the column is editorial in nature.
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