Again this morning, I walked my Mom across the street to the church for the pre-service prayer meeting. It isn’t far, but these days she is afraid to walk it without an arm. She is wobbly. And forgetful. But once we get settled, she will offer up a prayer thanking God for His faithfulness to her and to the little church Dad once pastored.
Her faithfulness and servant’s heart strengthens me. These days I sometimes fix dinner for Mom, but her prayers still feed my spirit. Her heart of service often makes me think of Philippians 2:17 where Paul describes his ministry to the church in Philippi:
But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. (NIV)
Mom has lived a “poured-out life.” She has poured out herself to God and to the church. As a pastor’s wife she has seen the worst and the darkest sides of the church and yet not wavered in her love of God or patience with God’s people. In her years of teaching grade-school she won the reputation as the teacher that could handle boys—even the brats. (I take some credit for her success but must share it with Larry and Stanley.) She loved the hard to love.
As a teacher, mother, and wife she served and poured herself out for others. Don’t misunderstand me; this is no maudlin Mother’s Day tribute where guys get to remember the sacrifice of their mothers for a moment and then pop back to a self-centered life. My mother, like my father, has taught me how to follow Jesus. She is this guy’s role model. I too want to live a poured-out life.
These days there is much that Mom doesn’t have the strength to do. With weak eyes and hands, she is shaking out the last drops of her love and service. Every drop is precious.
