Mother’s Day

When I was little, my mother used to always wake me up in the mornings – for school, church, whatever. When I was in high school, I finally got an alarm clock and I used it all the time to get myself up in the mornings. I used it to get up for school, but also to get up on Saturdays when I had nothing particular to do and could sleep in. However, I never, ever used to set my alarm for Sundays. Ever. Looking back now, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I wanted to go to church with my family and I knew what time were going to eat breakfast and head out of the door. But for some reason I never set my alarm. Instead, I counted on my mom to wake me up. And she did.

Now I obviously love both my parents very much but there was a definite difference between how my parents did stuff – like wake me up in the morning. For instance, when my mom would wake me up, she would come into my room, pull the blankets away from my face, and maybe do something like brush my crazy hair out of my face or kiss my forward and gently wake me up. But also, she would stay in the room until she saw that our eyes were open or that we were sitting up, proof that we were actually awake and responsive before she would leave. And it was great. But when my dad had to wake us up – yikes. You can always tell when my dad was coming to wake us up because you could hear Sanford loud and clear. He would be downstairs in the kitchen singing at the top of his lungs "Good morning Jesus, Good morning Lord" – this crazy song about something like the holy spirit moving like a dove. It was short and catchy and it drove me crazy because he would sing it over and over again. Oh man it was awful. I would hear this man coming for me and I would do everything I could to pretend like his loud singing wasn't waking me up. It was actually pretty easy to do too, since after he was done singing he would just walk into the room and say "Anna breakfast is on the table" and leave. So if he wasn't singing, it was really easy to fall back asleep. Some mornings, when I was feeling particularly stubborn, I would refuse to "wake up" until mom came and got me.

Okay, so what does this have to do with anything, right? Well, I like mother's day not only because it's a nice way to celebrate the women God has placed in our lives, but also because it gives us a glance of a side of God that we don't really think about. That God is not only "father' to us but also "mother." Like in this story, both of my parents had different tactics of waking me up – one wasn't necessarily better than the other, even if I would get annoyed with my dad – they were just different. God gave us both mothers and fathers so we could see a more holistic view of who he is. That if we as both male and females were made in the very likeness and image of God then that means there is a very real, mothering side to our heavenly Father. I like to believe that God is like Sanford in this story, joyfully singing us wake whether we like it or not, but also like our mothers who created us, who nurture us, who stays by our side and gently kisses us awake to God's love.

[Mom this blog is for you – this is what I shared at youth on Sunday afternoon]