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Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A Mom's Easter morning musing

I got up early on Easter morning, early for a Sunday that is.  I needed to iron my daughter's Easter dress and put together her Easter basket.  I really didn't mind.  In fact, I enjoyed it.  The house was peaceful and quiet and I felt unhurried to get my tasks done.  I got to savor doing special things for my girl.  My mind wandered to my own Mom and the times I saw her up late sewing or ironing or doing laundry for us.  She worked full-time and did everything related to caring for us, for as long as I was living at home, I think.  I wonder how many things she did that I never even noticed, let alone thanked her for doing.  I am sure there are thousands.  I don't think I was a particularly unappreciative child.  I was probably pretty normal (although I won't put that out for a vote from family...). I just didn't notice and I just didn't think much about it.  I don't expect my daughter, Emma, will notice either.  I think a lot of the things I do just come with the territory of being a Mom, and that is fine with me.  At this point in my life, I am so blessed that I am a Mom, and I am glad to do things to care for Emma and make special memories for her and with her. She probably won't really understand until she is a mother herself. As I pondered all this, my thoughts turned to His Mom.  She was so young and endured so much, watching His life and ministry unfold.  I wonder if she learned early to hold Him loosely, but how could she.  He was her son, her flesh and blood.  I wonder if she could even imagine Easter morning when she was in the midst of Good Friday.  Makes any of my sacrifices pale in comparison.

2 comments:

  1. I often think about His mother, too. What it must have been like to be a mother to someone like Him. To know that He had a great destiny and to know that such a burden to raise Him was placed on your own imperfect shoulders. I can't imagine what she must have felt to see her Son, her firstborn, hanging on the cross while people made fun of Him while she knew that he was innocent but that there was nothing that she could do. I hurt when my children hurt let alone to have to witness one of them going through one of the most barbaric forms of torture and death. You're right...it makes our sacrifices seem like nothing in comparison!

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  2. Thanks for taking time to read my blog and comment. I appreciate it and appreciate your heart felt sharing.

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