Mother’s Hats

Friday, June 15, 2007 at 08:58PM
J. Mark Jordan in WordShaping

The creative powers of God were fully challenged. After he flung the galaxies into the expanses of near space, spun the planets into orbit, and dusted his hands of the Milky Way, he turned his attention to the world we inhabit. He sculpted out the Grand Canyon, smoothed out the Saharan Desert, chiseled out the snow-capped Andes Mountains, scattered California with mighty Redwoods, carpeted the tropics with exotic palms and Birds of Paradise, ran his finger around the seven continents’ coastlines creating beaches with white sand and rugged rocks, carved Egypt with the Nile, Brazil with the Amazon, India with the Ganges, China with the Yangtze, and the U. S. with the Mississippi—-and he wasn’t finished. He tinged the forests with shades of green, brushed yellow onto the daffodils, pink onto the azaleas, red onto the roses and violet onto the violets, but even more was required. He had to pour grace into the deer, ferocity into the mother grizzly, craftiness into the fox, exquisite color into the peacock and song into the swallow. Almost at the end of his creative run, he made man.

Now, ready for his crowning achievement, God surpassed every one of the previous creative marvels. He made Mothers.

Mothers are terrific. There’s almost nothing they can’t do—-certainly nothing they wouldn’t try to do in fulfilling their creative instincts. They wear many hats and change them at the drop of a hat.

My mother used to be an incurable hat wearer. She wore the pillbox hat, the tam, the straw bonnet, the broad-brimmed satin or a hat trimmed in lace, the plumed hat, the veiled hat and dressy coverings made of felt. Some women wear hats decorated with beads, feathers, flowers, tassels, pins or even pieces of fruit. Others wear fur caps, head wraps, decorative scarves and colorful bandannas.

The hats I’m talking about, however, aren’t part of a fashion aficionado’s wardrobe. I’m referring to the hats that define the roles that moms play.

Mothers wear the cook’s hat. From baloney sandwiches to au gratin potatoes, Mom does it all. She can whip up a cake from scratch, make special fudge at Christmas time, and cook that turkey tender. She mixes, stirs, grinds, fries, bakes, boils, broils, grills, bastes, simmers, heats, sautés, toasts, and browns—-all without burning or scorching. She cans peaches, freezes corn, organizes spice trays, clips coupons and shops for all the groceries. Mom does it all.

Mothers wear the homemaker’s hat. She arranges—-and re-arranges—-furniture, measures for curtains and carpet, hangs pictures, paints and papers the walls, and decorates for Christmases and birthdays. She color-coordinates the towels, plants flowers, buys shrubs for Dad to plant and picks up bug-spray for Dad to apply. She does almost all of the shopping for household items and has been known to take back every single one of those items that she purchased and either replace them with the right color or size, or get a refund because she decided she didn’t need them.

Mothers wear the maid’s hat. She washes, dries and irons clothes, sews on buttons, makes beds, cleans toilets, shakes out rugs, defrosts freezers, washes dishes, scrubs pots and pans, dusts furniture, superglues broken vases, wipes up spills, throws out soured milk, dumps moldy leftovers, vacuums carpets, sweeps away cobwebs, mops and waxes floors, inspects the shoes of Dad and the kids before she lets them in the house, and has been known to raise her voice at messy rooms.

Mothers wear the nurse’s hat. She administers medicine, applies Band-Aids, washes out cuts and scrapes, kisses owies, takes temperatures, forces down cough syrup, calls doctors, fixes hot tea with lemon for sore throats, reminds kids to wear their hats, scarves, gloves, boots—-and their retainers for the teeth from which the braces just came off that cost thousands of dollars…not to mention the third pair of eyeglasses that have been lost! She prescribes home remedies, sets out the vitamins, sends kids back to brush their teeth, and writes out excuses for sick kids—-or sends them on to school when she thinks they’re pulling her leg—-and has the incredible wisdom to know the difference.

Mothers wear the policeman’s cap. She senses when something is wrong. She checks pockets, digs in back-packs, flips through books and rummages through purses. She demands to smell breath, inspect hair, rub cheeks, lips and eyebrows, and examine belt-lines, hemlines and necklines. She asks who you’re riding with, emailing, calling and having over. She wants to know who gave you that item of jewelry or article of clothing that you’re not supposed to have. She finds mysterious notes, forbidden tapes and CD’s, trashy books, questionable magazines, and rips up Abercrombie and Fitch’s catalogs! She wants to know what you watched when you went to someone’s house, why your radio is set to 102.5FM, and why you got into a certain website. She never stops questioning, and is never satisfied with the first answer she gets. Aren’t mothers wonderful?

Mothers wear the hats of story-tellers, book readers, game players, one-person audiences for kids reciting poems, homework helpers, baseball coaches, taxi-drivers, referees, umpires, mediators, detectives, prosecuting attorneys, defense lawyers, judges and juries. She advises, counsels, sooths, comforts, chides, mentors, hugs, kisses, pats, reminds, scolds, sends cards and letters, drops off a batch of cookies for the neighbors or the bake sale, takes pictures and pastes them in album after album, (or at least intends to some day).

But, most importantly, Mother’s wear the prayer warrior’s hat. You might think Mom always knows and always has the answers. But, she knows she doesn’t. That’s why—-late at night or early in the morning, and sometimes in the middle of the night—-if you sneak into the family room or kitchen, you will see Mother in her most glorious hat, the hat of the prayer-warrior.

You see, sometimes Mothers don’t get the answers they want when they ask the questions. They worry about rashes, bumps and scrapes. They may not know what all the medical terms are, but they know when you just aren’t yourself. They worry about the older kids that come around their children, and what happens at school or the playground or the park.

When kids get older, Mothers are troubled by rebellious looks, hateful remarks, shifty eyes, strange words, reluctance to go to church and a resistance to do the right things that had never before arisen.

She knows you’re vulnerable as you enter changes in your life.
She sees the pain on your expression when someone disses you.
She sees signs of spiritual struggle.
She knows when you’re not around the altar.
Sometimes, she doesn’t like the relationships you’re getting into.
She sees the far-off look in your eyes, and it worries her.
Your spiritual well-being is the single most important thing in her life.

And so she prays. Sometimes, she feels like she just can’t get through to you. She can’t watch you all the time. She doesn’t know all of the influences you may be under.

And so she prays. If the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much, you can double that for a mother. The very demons of hell tremble when a mother comes after them with intercessory prayer. The mothers of the Bible say, “Pray on!”

Hannah: 1 Samuel 1:15-17 And Hannah answered and said, No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit: I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the LORD.16 Count not thine handmaid for a daughter of Belial: for out of the abundance of my complaint and grief have I spoken hitherto. 17 Then Eli answered and said, Go in peace: and the God of Israel grant thee thy petition that thou hast asked of him.

Deborah: Judges 5:1-2 Then sang Deborah and Barak the son of Abinoam on that day, saying, 2 Praise ye the LORD for the avenging of Israel , when the people willingly offered themselves. 7 The inhabitants of the villages ceased, they ceased in Israel , until that I Deborah arose, that I arose a mother in Israel .

I’m confident that behind the successes of Isaac were the prayers of his mother, Sarah. Rebekah must have prayed for Jacob, Jochebed for Moses, Hannah for Samuel, and unnamed mothers for Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the long line of prophets. A grandmother named Lois and a mother named Eunice must have prayed for Timothy. Mighty patriarchs, prophets, priests and kings all must attribute their blessings to mothers who knew how to pray.

Mothers, on this Mother’s Day, you may be weary and distraught. Satan may have told you that you are fighting a losing battle. You may feel inadequate, outsmarted, helpless and hopeless. But, you’re none of these things as long as you can pray!

Pray through the attack of Satan on your home and children.
Pray through the clouds of darkness that try to suffocate you.
Pray through the attempts of evil influence to destroy everything you’ve instilled in your kids.
Pray—-not with resignation, but with resolve!
Pray first, pray last, and fill up the hours in between with whispered prayer.
Find time, make time, take time to pray.
Pray early, pray late, pray often.
Pray softly, pray loudly, pray fervently.
No one can represent your children before the throne of God like you can.
It is time that the mothers in Israel arose. There is a mighty prayer army that moves the very throne of God.

Article originally appeared on ThoughtShades (http://www.jmarkjordan.com/).