Today’s Mothers’ Day, and it is a happy cause of celebration for many, including myself.
The pastor told a story today, about a woman who was heavily pregnant on Christmas Eve during the world war. Despite her many cries for help, no one had attended to her, and pushed her away. Freezing and in the bitter cold, the young mother walked across a country side of snow to find help, as she knew a missionary lived around the area. However, on the way there, her water broke, and she had to give birth alone and cold under a bridge. Desperate to protect her child from the cold, she removed her clothes and wrapped them around her newborn child, and she endured the winter’s bitter and unyielding night. The next morning, the missionary living nearby walked along the area, and heard a baby’s shrill cries. Curious, the missionary followed the sounds of the cries, and sure enough, he found the newborn baby, and the mother, who had frozen to death overnight. He adopted the child and took him under care.
Ten years later, the missionary revealed to the child that his mother had died at that very bridge on a cold winter’s night many years ago. The boy cried and walked down to the bridge in the early morning. The missionary found his adopted son missing and walked down to the bridge, only to find the boy stark naked, sitting at the bridge, with his clothes folded in a neat pile next to him. Shivering, and in tears, he whispered, “Mother, you endured this cold for me?”
My mum never had an easy childhood. She never really had the love of a mother, and yet, despite everything, she showed me love. And my heart ached that she would never experience this love of a mother. How can this be…
The story pierced my heart, certainly. That my mom wasn’t going to be around forever. And I was reminded of those without mothers, or whose mothers did not show them the love that a mother should show.
It immediately reminded me on the importance of loving and treasuring my mother, and showing her the love that she gave me.