Thursday, January 21, 2016

Mother Promptings

My mother told me a story about her mother.  The family was in the living room, doing whatever the normal things were to do.  Grandma Amy was doing sitting in her chair, probably busy with some handiwork.  She embroidered and crocheted beautifully.  The three girls were there in the room, but I think the older three boys were gone.  The oldest son was in Vietnam, where he flew helicopters on rescue missions.  

Without warning, Grandma Amy jumped out of her chair, spilling everything to the floor, and ran upstairs.  My mother said she remembered looking around and seeing the surprise on her sisters' faces.  Grandma Amy just did not jump and run like that.

After quite some time, she returned to the room, her face pale and grim.  She explained that she didn't know why, but she felt compelled to pray for her boy in Vietnam.  She knew he was in some kind of bad trouble and needed to plead with the Lord to help him.

Later, she found out that he was indeed in peril at that exact moment, but had a narrow escape.  I wish I knew more details of the story, but I love the idea that Grandma Amy could importune the heavens for blessings on her children.  

While I was playing the organ at the temple today, I had a vivid flashback of a time with my oldest son.  I had gone out to Virginia to see him graduate from some of his military training.  It was our last day there, and his commanding officer had given him three hours of leave.  When it was time for him to go, however, the acting sergeant reduced it to only one hour.  Alec was furious, and disappointed.  His anger and frustration and discouragement boiled over into tears - tears he didn't want anyone to see, of course.  My mother heart broke for him, but there was nothing we could do. 

We spent the hour together and I savored the moments.  I watched him walk back to his barracks, smart and trim in his dress blues.  More tears fell, but this time they were mine and I didn't care who saw them.  I was so proud of him, and so glad that he wanted to spend time with me.

I don't know that Alec shed more tears today, or that there was something frustrating or angry or discouraging in his life at that moment.  But I still prayed for him, and I hoped he would be strong and happy.

I never knew what a mother heart would feel like.  I never understood how strongly a mother could love her children, and how physically that angst and yearning and care could express itself.

Now I get it.  And I am grateful for the legacy of strong mothers who taught me love.  What a blessing I get to be a part of!

No comments:

Post a Comment