Belated Mother's Day Post

Let me just say that I was out of town for Mother's Day, and the more I see people saluting their mothers via their blogs, the more I wish I would have planned ahead.

So, Happy Belated Mother's Day, Ma. This one's for you.


My mom grew up in a family of five children, of whom she was the youngest and only girl. Her family was poor, as my grandfather ("Mickey") made little money working in a factory. But Mom would always tell us (her own five children) that she and her brothers were never in want of fun growing up. They would make games and toys out of bottlecaps or play "release the dungeon" with other neighborhood kids until they were too tired to run anymore. Her older brothers provided much entertainment- perhaps a bit too much for their little sister. My uncle Tim (who seems to have been the spitting image of "Calvin" in the famous cartoon Calvin and Hobbes) would do things like line up my mom's paper dolls and then get her in on a"fun" game of "target practice with the beebee gun." I think it sounded like a great idea to her at first, but the enthusiasm began to fade after Uncle Tim proved to be a decent shot.

Mom married at age 20 and had me almost exactly one year later. Complete "Jesus Freak Hippies," she and my dad decided to live out in the country. Mom had always been a "city girl," and recalls when she and Dad were first married being scared to death of whatever wild animal might be lurking around the house. My dad was a carpenter back then, and I can remember when I was about three and Ben, my little brother, was one, Mom would put us in the car to go have lunch with Daddy at his worksite.

We never had much money growing up, either, but Mom would always keep us entertained by teaching us songs or teaching us games that she and her brothers made up when they were younger. She would teach us to build "forts" in the living room with chairs and blankets. She would invent games with the garden hose on hot days. All five kids learned how to jitterbug, waltz and polka because of Mom. She LOVED music, and if she wasn't singing herself, music was always playing in the house. In fact, during VBS in the summertime, the church down the road always asked my mom to "do the music," since she could play guitar and knew so many great Bible songs.

One thing that I'll never forget is that Mom insisted we respect our elders. We were NEVER to call our aunts or uncles just by their first names. It was always "Aunt Patti" or "Uncle Dean." And we were always to refer to an officer as a "policeman" and not a "cop"- that was rude. If we had company, we were to politely greet them upon their arrival and say goodbye before they walked out the door- not lock ourselves up in our rooms the whole time playing by ourselves or reading books. Talking back or pouting or stomping off would always result in a sore backside. In fact, Mom was very diligent in disciplining us. Once when I was about three, we were at a friend's bridal shower. After the bride-to-be opened a set of wooden spoons and the guests were oohing and ahhing, I sang out, "Spoons to spank! Spoons to spank!" Mom recalls many of the women glaring at her. She didn't care, though. She feared God more than she feared the opinions of those flimsy women. Mom was (and still is) a tough cookie, and she depended on God to give her strength to be a strong mother. When my brother hit adolescence, he decided one day to "test the waters" when my dad was at work. At this point, Ben had grown much taller than Mom. There was no doubt about it- his attitude reeked of challenging Mom to hold to her principles of discipline. Knowing this (and knowing her size compared to his), my mom calmly went to her bedroom, shut the door, pulled down my dad's belt from the closet and prayed to God for strength and guidance. Needless to say, my brother didn't challenge her much after that!

If there is anyone in this world who knows how to make lemonade out of lemons when life gives them to you, it would be my Mom. I've seen Mom suffer many hardships and disappointments throughout her life, but she always smiled and took care of all of us during those trials. My family has seen everything from a loss of a job to a baby that wasn't expected to live for twenty four hours, and Mom perservered, with God's help, through all of it. Recently, I was talking to my dad over the phone, and he was telling me that my mom had fallen down the steps a few days prior. After hearing the thuds and her cry, he rushed into the room to help her. When he reached her, she was obviously in pain, but managed to crack a joke, making fun of herself for her "blunder." I could hear Dad smiling over the phone, "Isn't that just like your mom, Becca?"

Mom always made us appreciate what we had. Whenever we took vacations or went out on a rare treat to a restaurant, she would always remind us to thank our dad. In fact, many times, she would start the chorus, "Thank you, Daddy," and we would chime in. Whenever our family continued to grow, Dad had to build an addition onto our two-bedroom house. One afternoon, while walking down our gravel road from the school bus stop, I saw a sign hanging from the newly framed addition that my mom made: "Thank You, Dad!" She was everyone's constant cheerleader.

This brings me to a plug for women who decide to be "just a housewife" or a stay-at-home mom. My mom has been ridiculed by strangers, friends, and yes, even other family members for "wasting her talents" or horror upon horrors- submitting to her husband in doing so! As the world would view it, because of the number of children in our family and because my dad's income wasn't large, it would have been "practical" or "socially responsible" for her to go to work to provide us with a "better quality of life." (Which translates into providing us with designer clothes, more toys, taking airplanes on vacations instead of driving, staying in hotels instead of tents or cabins). By the grace of God, my parents saw the importance of having a mother raise her children instead of giving them to someone else to raise while she goes off and "does something with her life." Well, I've seen the children of many of the women who decided to "utilize their talents" or buy toys and clothes and plane rides and hotels to show them their love. More often than not, these children are ruined. Nothing pleases them, nothing tastes. They grow up to be, well, overgrown children.

Outside of being "just a housewife and mother," my mom DOES have a talent that many people don't know about: She is an excellent writer and storyteller. (I keep telling her she should start her own blog- Lord knows she has so many stories to tell!) In fact, many years ago, she considered taking a correspondence course on writing children's literature. I remember the short story she submitted for the school's review. It was about a little bird who always wanted to be something else- a frog, a duck, a bear- anything but what God had made it. Only until it had become prey to another animal was it thankful for being a bird, for its only escape was to be able to fly. This brings me to my final point and close: God made me woman. He made me to be a loving wife, and Lord willing, in the future, a loving mother. I shamefully admit, that when I left home for college, I was planning on "making something of myself;" not being like Mom. Since then, God has opened my eyes to the beauty and high calling of a stay at home wife, and I pray that God will soon give me the opportunity to be "just" a stay-at-home mom. I know that I will have much to learn, but I am so thankful that my mom was not ashamed of what God called her to do and became an example for what I will be doing.

Thanks, Mom.

God's Provisions

In preparation for the big move in August, I had been doing an online search for churches in Nashville. Ever since the arrival of our newest pastor at our church here in Bloomington, we have been more than intrigued with the Reformed Baptist perspective (the background from which he comes), so we were more than pleased to find that there is a Reformed Baptist church in Nashville. ( rbcnashville.org)

Soon after finding their site online, Nick suggested that we go check them out. At this point, I should say that we were particularly interested in hearing their head pastor, Stephen Gambill, preach. We had downloaded and listened to a few sermons and read his bio/testimony online, which is truly an astounding one. To make sure that he would actually be there and preaching when we planned to visit, I emailed him, and he promptly replied to not only welcome us to visit, but to have dinner with him and his family that Sunday evening.

So, this past weekend, we traveled the necessary four and a half hours to reach sunny, already summer-like, balmy Nashville. We spent Saturday apartment hunting, and came to the conclusion that it might be in our best interest to purchase a condo instead of wasting money on rent for the next three years....but more on that subject another time. We arrived at Reformed Baptist fashionably late on Sunday morning. The church is made up of about 50 people (it is a church plant from Louisville), and it meets in an historic brick house that is actually owned by another small and wandering congregation, Grace Presbyterian. Their worship service was a modest meeting in what seems to have been a garage or large utility room that sits off to the side of the house. Music was mostly hymns and very familiar praise songs, simply accompanied by a man playing keyboard. I took note of how full a sound is produced by a small congregation singing in such a small space. Most of them were melody singers, loud and full. I think Nick and I were the only ones who sang harmony, but the one-line singing was rather appealing. Then came prayers and scripture reading and sermon. Typical liturgy format for us, anyway. The sermon was sound, meaty, biblical (always a plus:), and CONVICTING. We were loving it already. Even though the preaching itself lasted about 72 minutes, no bother. We've been primed for that kind of endurance for the last several years:)

Afterward, there was a fellowship meal, which lasted for about an hour and a half. (Apparently, this is a weekly potluck they have after EVERY Sunday morning service.) Following the meal, which was shared by all who ate and fellowshiped throughout the house, everyone reconvened back into the "sanctuary" to celebrate the Lord's supper and to sing a final hymn. It was truly a blessed Sabbath. We were immediately flocked to by young couples, older couples, children. Reminded us of home:) Where were we from? Were we coming back to Nashville? Would we need a place to stay? We would be more than welcome to stay with them when we return....will we need help moving into our new place?? Many names, addresses, and phone numbers were quickly scrawled on a yellow piece of paper which was promptly tucked into our Bible.

Eric and Lydia, a young engaged couple, offered to drive us around that afternoon to search for more prospective places to live. They were so helpful and informative. It was great having time with them in the car, not just to talk about apartments and such, but to get to know them and ask questions about the church. In the evening, we followed them to Pastor Gambill's house on the north-east side of Nashville where we played with their children, jumped on their backyard trampoline, checked out Pastor Gambill's "study," which is a one-room structure that sits at the far end of his backyard, and ate homemade pizza. We were asked to talk about where we were from, how we came to know the Lord, and what our future plans were.

After asking Stephen about two or three times to give the "long version" of his short testimony that is on their website, he finally conceded and unfolded his story of how the Lord completely chased after him, as the Hound of Heaven often tends to do. It so reminded me of Saul to Paul, and I remembered that the same God that dealt with Saul in the New Testament had also dealt with this young pastor that was sitting before us.

About 8pm, Nick and I remembered that we had a four and half hour trip ahead of us. After many thanks and goodbyes, we headed out, recounting the weekend's events. About a half an hour into the trip, we heard this horrible sound, as if an out-of-control vehicle was coming from behind, ready for collision. Really, it was a tire that had blown on our car. Aside from putting on a "donut" that Nick had in the trunk, we weren't sure what to do, as we were still so far from home and there were no auto establishments open to provide us with a new tire. We called the Gambill's, and after explaining the situation, Stephen immediately came to our aid and offered us his home for the night. After getting good rest that night and new tires the next morning, we finally headed home.

We couldn't help but continuing to note how God was so good to us in His provisions. The move from Bloomington to Nashville is anticipated to be a bittersweet one. Bloomington has become our home. Church of the Good Shepherd has become our most beloved family. But as God went with the Israelites as they left Egypt to wander into the wildnerness, God has already gone before us to prepare for us the things we need, just as He did several years ago, before coming to the unknown world of Bloomington.



But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19