For My Mum

What kind of son am I?  Not a good one, evidently.  Here we have the nerve centre for the online thinking and blogging on everything to do with the life of Christopher Dryden  There are blogs regaling my brother, there are blogs regaling my sister, there are blogs regaling my father, there are blogs regaling my daughters, there are even blogs regaling my beloved wife.  What, though, of my mother?

I’ve looked.  I’ve done the searches.  I’ve looked recent and I’ve looked in the past.  Nothing at all.

Shame on me.

Today of all days, then, I can make a small change to that abominable aberration.  (Have I told you how much I love words?  When was the last time you said something like that?  Don’t try it either, by the time I got the words out of my mouth it was time to have something to eat.)

Well the big deal is that today is my dear mother’s birthday.  I can say that she’s older me, because she’s my mother and all.  Her age is not as important as the fact that God has granted her the privilege of completing another year on the planet.  In the brief time I had bearing witness to her life as baby, toddler, adolescent, young adult and now parent of three, I have been well aware that her life has not been easy.  I should know because in some shape or form I’ve contributed to some of that which has caused … complications … in her life.  Beyond my own mischief, though, I have seen her endure some brutal life issues.  Some things that I would not want any other human beings to go through.  Some emotional and mental abuse that would have crushed other people, but by God’s grace she has gone through it all.  At least she has begun to see the fruits of her endurance with four devoted children who love her a great deal and now with seven grandchildren who will likewise dote on her as they get older.

As you know my wife has recently bore our third child together and with that our household is like the household that my mother had in the 1980’s and 1990’s – three children.  As I look at how my wife has to negotiate the dynamics of three very different children I reflect on how my own mother would have dealt with those three very different people.

In my recollection I picture a hard working woman who slaved away at home to ensure all was as it should be – emotionally, relationally, domestically.  She really was the heart of the house.  Her meals were the best ever made on planet earth or indeed in the known and unknown universe.  She was not slow in sharing her opinion and enjoyed a good laugh as well.

I also remember the faith and trust she had in her children.  Anything and everything she could do to support and encourage them, she did.  She typified the sacrificial lifestyle and in the family way of doing things.  I know that whenever she spotted something in me, a gift or talent, she would encourage its development.  More than anyone she taught me what it was to be real by her tears, and her laughter, but her prayer-life and her praise-life.  In fact seeing her make some serious spiritual steps in her own walk with Christ was a hugely influential time in my life and from that among other things came my love of Keith Green.  For all her character flaws I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was serious and steadfast in her love for God and commitment to playing her part in living the life and showing others this tremendous love from above.

She was without the more outgoing, friendly, gregarious, extroverted member.  Many a time spent around a friend’s house where the ‘goodbye’ would take the best part of half an hour (or eternity as I knew it at the time) because of her rapport and relational style.  I can recall people in and out of church who had a great thing going with my mum and loved her personality.

I was always in the difficult position when it come to relations with my mum.  I’m a momma’s boy you see.  I was accused of having a special relationship with Mum.  Not that it helped when my sister blackmailed me into doing her washing up for her in return for her silence on some incriminating activity in which I was associated.  For all that though, she loved me and was more concerned about how I would turn out than the trusty, responsible big sister and the head-screwed-on practical younger brother.  I am her first born son, so there’s obviously going to be some issues with that.  Yet I never curried that many favours from her and she was very much someone who loved her children as generously as she could.

Her generosity of spirit, her determination, her passion and devotion, her steadfast nature and her unstinting dedication to her family, friends and faith marked her out as a very special woman.  It would be an honour for anyone to know her, but it is a greater privilege to be her son.

I thank God for my mum and the great example she has shown and will hopefully continue to show for her remaining days in the land of the living.

For His Name’s Sake

Shalom

dmcd