I don’t know about you but as a mother my children can really bring tears to my eyes. Sometimes it is just the little things in what they may say or do. As I reflect this morning on when I first became a mother it makes me smile. As the nurses placed Lyle in my arms, he cried and so did I. It wasn’t the first time he and I cried together nor I believe it won’t be the last. I remember the times of trophies or awards the boys earned and how proud I was of all of them to go above the average and how secretly I wiped the tears away as they marched up front to receive it. Heck, I have even cried on seeing other children perform and thought how their momma feels and held back the tears. Call me a cry baby, please. I remember having several melt downs when all four of them were under the age of 7 and how crazy I felt at times when they fought, they were sick, they fell and yet I kept pushing forward waiting for a better day. At times how I felt guilty or not feeling adequate in being a good mom, how selfish at times or how I let anger get the best of me and took it out on them.
As they grew, we cried together over the death of friends and family members. Lord knows how many times I have cried over them, prayed over them when they began their teen age life and started driving. I have cried over their decisions yet stepped back to make sure they could get up again, their hurts, their wounds, their scars all make this mother cry.
A couple of days ago, Bryson was with Jeff and I in Nashville. We were at a gas station and all of a sudden Bryson jumps out of the truck and starts walking over to a crippled man. He had a prosthetic leg. The man had gestured for Bryson to come over and had asked him if he could sell him some of his tools. Bryson told him that he didn’t want his tools but instead opened up his billfold and gave him some money. This entire scene unfolded before I even knew what was taking place because I was unaware the man had motioned Bryson to come to him. All I seen was Bryson giving the guy money. My first reaction was “Don’t give that guy money, he probably wants to use it to buy alcohol or drugs with it”. But as I reflected on this action of kindness, I smiled and then I felt a tear flow down my cheek. He was reflecting the actions of being raised as a child who gives, reflecting Jesus inside all of us.
This past weekend I attended my Lyle’s first conference in Nashville. It was hard for this administrative mother to not get involved in the planning and want to try to help out in making sure everything was in place. Even Jeff was on edge with excitement as we went as guest. Standing there on stage, they had asked us to come and pray for Lyle. Wow, what a moment as time stood still as we were honored. You see, it seemed like only a few short years ago he had just gave his heart back to God and accept his calling of being a Pappa to thousands of children. That made me cry too, when we purchased the freedom of three slave children and the list goes on. Now here we are standing in front of a crowd of young people, fired up to follow the commission of justice, love with a mission not only because of God calling them to such a time as this but because of my sons laying their life down for another. I am crying……