AFTER THE FUNERAL, back inside her house, I meandered down the hallway to the other end, away from the ladies in our family who had gathered in the kitchen to prepare one of their famous family feasts. Nobody wanted to say it, but it would be the last time we would be all together again around that old, gorgeous, solid cherry table. Our grand mother had moved on to her eternal reward.
The moment I entered my grandmother's bedroom, a flood of familiar scents stopped me just as I stepped past the threshold. Smiling with eyes closed, alone in the deafening silence, I drew a deep cleansing breath. What a perfect blend of her Irish Spring bar soap, a hint of Bounce dryer sheets and her unforgettable perfume.
A few moments later I peeked into her bathroom to see if everything was still in order. The sink faucet had not been fixed and one drop after another slowly formed and dropped. Life here goes on.
But I came there for a different reason. I opened a couple of her dresser drawers in search of the special things my grandmother told me she'd left behind and wanted me to have.
The drawers were packed tightly with sheets and pillowcases containing intricate and colorful needlework designs, and I thought for a moment that she had left her sowing handiwork for me to enjoy.
But then, I discovered it. The real treasure.
They were sheets of copy paper, most of which were wrinkled and yellowed by the years—placed one sheet at a time between the fabrics. They were filled with prayers scribbled with pencils and pens. Words far more beautiful than artwork.
I began to tremble as I deciphered her handwriting—crafted by her severely arthritic hands. They were detailed requests and blessings for me. Much too personal to share; those sobering thoughts deeply moved me. I wondered if I was alive and well only because her wishes were granted. Neither pain nor death can stop a mother's love.
I grew up with a wonderful mother and a wise and kind grandmother, both of whom doted over the family's first-born grandchild, but I didn't understand how much work and how many long and demanding hours mothers endure to keep their families running smoothly.
I had no idea how powerful mothers could be. I only knew that my life was good and I was happy. I have since learned that my grandmother's written pleadings were in keeping with the behavior of all loving mothers, from the first one to all those today. She was truly a daughter of Eve—asking God to bless her child's life.
Now that I'm a dad and a grandfather, I've learned more about how innocent children actually are and how much they need a strong advocate if they're ever going to survive the politics of this life. I can tell you that every mother knows their children better than ANYONE else except our Creator. Moms sense and feel what's going on with their children—even if they are separated by many miles.
Moms are tireless creations. They never quit. No matter how exhausted, sick, or mentally depleted they become or how much they may need a vacation, they will give their children the last full measure of themselves or the final morsel of food on their plate—for as long as they live.
Mothers who believe in God, and probably those who do not, will at some point roll their eyes toward heaven and whisper, "Help me, please. I can't do this alone."
Despite her flaws and mistakes, or perhaps it was because of them, Eve understood that children need the Lord. She watched her son Cain leave home and establish a sinful city of increasingly wicked and violent people who didn't know, follow, or love God. Do you watch or listen to the news? The inappropriate and violent behavior of today has evidently been around since the fall of mankind in the garden.
The only man of faith in the second generation of humans had been murdered, so "she (Eve) gave birth to a son, and named him Seth," and said, "God has granted me another offspring (Seth) in place of Abel, for Cain killed him."
Seth also had a son. Could it be that the prayers of his mother influenced him to run his family better and raise his son as he should? The next verse reads, "Then men began to call upon the name of the Lord." (Genesis 4:25-26) Don't miss this subtle yet critical part of the story:
Eve named Seth, not Adam. Eve wanted a child who would love God and apparently prayed fervently for him. And the result? God's gracious answer was to a mother's prayer.
"Seth" means "granted."
While this world still contains irascible and belligerent people, and hate appears to be the go-to emotion, there are also many peaceful, God-loving, and kind neighbors strewn among us to make life more palatable.
The savior of our souls came through a human woman's seed and lives in the hearts of many. Have you ever read the Prayer of Mary? Be hopeful; her prayer is written for all time, and because of her attitude and dedication to God, "still rolls the stone from the grave." And we are free from eternal death.
Mothers, your children need you now more than ever. Please pray often over them. I believe it is the greatest act of love you can give. Who knows? Perhaps God will hear your pleading and see your tears, then smile and be moved to answer, "Granted!"
Copyright 2023, Gary Landerfelt, MyPericope.com
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