"Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight. " Psalm 119:35
"The Hand Clapping Game
I was 24 years old, sitting in a sandwich shop with our Sunday School class after church. I don’t remember what I ate, who I talked to or what I heard, but I vividly remember what I saw.
I saw my Sunday School teacher, Cindy, and her 9 year old daughter sitting on her lap playing a hand clapping game. You know the ones. You rhyme, you clap, you giggle and laugh.
I watched and even after 24 years, my heart…ached.
I never knew my mother. She died when I was only a few months old. I never knew what it was like to sit in her lap or play hand clapping games. I never dressed up in her clothes as a little girl. I never had an argument with her and I never gave her a hug.
In my mind I had the perfect mother, though. I put together the bits and pieces that my dad and grandparents shared about her and wove that together with my own dreams. She was beautiful and gracious. She loved Jesus and her family. She was kind and gentle and giving. She could sing like an angel.
She does sing like an angel…
I clung to everything that was hers. My dad said she liked pears. Pears were my favorite-est fruit ever, in-the-whole-wide-world. I had a fancy lotion jar that was hers. I’d open it for a sniff and close it as fast as I could, afraid my connection to her would fade with the scent.
The mother-daughter relationship – it seemed like such a mystery to me. I was the outsider looking in and dreaming. As a little girl, I’d see mothers and daughters talking or playing together and I was so jealous. l wanted to know what it would be like to play a hand clapping game with someone called Mommy.
My little heart ached a lot.
He Saw Every Ache…and He Knew
It’s as if He’d been whispering to me all along, “Just wait, my girl. Have I got something special for you. Just wait.”
When I grew up, my sweet, precious, ever-faithful, ever-watching, ever-knowing Redeemer gave me not one, but two little girls.
And we play hand clapping games. And they call me Mommy.
And I am thankful.
A Word for You
Isn’t it funny how someone I never knew has shaped so much of who I am? The mere mention of her name brings misty wetness to the eyes of this grown, 34 year old woman.
A mother’s impact in her child’s life is profound. Never ever doubt or forget this.
What you are doing matters. It matters deeply.
You are not just a mother.
You are a Mother."Kat -http://inspiredtoaction.com/2010/08/my-story-part-1/
Enjoy the last month of summer, and make memories that will bring a smile to those who remember...