Well, friends, I should have looked at the calendar more carefully. When we wrote recently about pausing our series on God’s Works and Wonders in the Wilderness in order to accommodate a two-week travel and study opportunity, we didn’t notice that our first post after returning home would fall on Mother’s Day weekend. That meant that resuming our Wilderness series would need to be backed off one additional week.

For several years, our Mother’s Day publication has been set apart for a post I had written in Mom’s honor after she went to be with Jesus. So, while I apologize for putting off our ‘return to the wilderness’ until next week, I am blessed to be able to share what God led me to write years ago about Mom. Motherhood is a relationship unlike any other, and the potential for world-changing influence that resides in it is incalculable. May God help us to commit to support, encourage, defend and protect the gift and privilege of motherhood in general – and, in particular, all the special mothers we know and love.

And now, if you’ll endulge me, I’d like to share, once again, the post written in honor of my mother … 

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Mother’s Day . . . It’s one of those holidays that almost always comes with the potential for an array of emotionally charged moments. For many, shared memories of happy times and incidents from long ago will still prove to be laugh-out-loud funny even after all those years. For others, the day will revive the heartache and grief of wounds and losses that time cannot erase. But just like the cliché that none of us got into this world without a mother, Mother’s Day will elicit some kind of reaction from virtually everyone. Today’s post is one that we’ve offered before, and one that I publish regularly in honor of my Mom, who’s been with the Lord she loved since 2016. My hope is that it will be an encouraging reflection for all of us, whether our moms are with us — or waiting for us . . .

For me, the memories flood back to one of those ‘frozen in time’ moments as I stood at Mom’s bedside looking down at her little frame. Others had stepped out, and for a few minutes, there were just the two of us. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow as her exit from this life drew nearer.

She was so small and frail now, so weak, so isolated from the hectic world outside, and as far as that world was concerned, altogether irrelevant. Compared to the vibrant, capable, strong, creative, and energetic woman who brought me into the world so many years ago, and who had fought her way past more obstacles and endured more pain than I could even imagine, the image before me was more than a contrast — it was a blatant antithesis.

A Frustrating Cliché ~
I thought about where her journey had brought her in these recent months, about how long and dark her path had become. I stood there groping for some profound thing to say, some deeply moving insight to grab onto that would be worthy of the implications of this scene. All the most basic and vital realities of life and faith were unfolding before me, and at that moment, I had nothing. The only thought that penetrated the rubble in my mind right then was an irritating, out-of-place cliché . . . ‘It’s always darkest just before the dawn.’  “Well,” I thought, “it’s certainly dark enough, but I don’t see much of a dawn for her right now.”

Scenes from happier days flooded in. Our family didn’t fit the cultural mold of the Bible Belt in my early years because we weren’t ‘church people’. But not meeting all the local social standards wasn’t surprising because we were, after all, ‘Yankees’—immigrants from up north. Moving to a little tight-knit southern Virginia town from some place as foreign as Ohio brings a stigma with it that isn’t easily erased, so nobody expected us to blend in but so well anyway. The fact that I was actually born right in that little town in Virginia later didn’t help much, either, because I couldn’t escape what they called my ‘northern’ accent. Rolling with the punches wasn’t new to Mom, and she worked hard to help us adapt.

A Life-changing New Routine ~
Before I reached that age where guys notice girls transitioning from being just another irritant, like mosquitoes and chiggers, to becoming curiously intriguing, Mom developed a new routine. Every morning before getting up she would lie there in the bed listening to a radio evangelist named Oliver B. Greene. He preached passionately about God’s love, telling her every day how she could have eternal life through faith in Christ. One morning, after hearing another of his daily appeals, she knelt beside her bed and gave her heart and life to the One who had given His for her.

Mom was different after that. She didn’t suddenly become perfect, as all of us who had intimate contact with her can attest, and she didn’t become “weirdly religious”, but the faith she extended to Jesus Christ that day remained an indelible part of who she was from that time on.

Mom had never had much money and even now, after all these years of hard work, she would not have been able to buy much even if she had the strength. Most of her life had been a struggle just to get by. Her family had shared the financial hardships that were commonplace during the aftermath of the “Great Depression” when survival meant learning how to scrimp and cut corners, and when that failed, it meant learning how to do without. What a lesson in values she was to me that day—poor, but at the same time possessing something that the combined currencies of the world would not be able to buy.

The frail little person lying there struggling to breathe had lost personal control over almost everything. Dementia had taken away Mom’s capacity to make any significant decision. Age and disease had ravaged her physically and made her totally dependent for even the most basic care. The only thing remaining that Mom had absolute, unchallenged, and unassailable ownership of was the promise she received from the lips of her Risen Savior as she knelt beside another bed so many decades earlier. While age and disease might have taken control of her mind and body, it could not take away that promise. Legal documents might have stripped her of the right to make important decisions, but no court could nullify that promise. Every value system the world had to offer was failing her right now, but their collapse couldn’t touch that promise! Strength had abandoned her, but she didn’t need to hold on anymore. She was being held by the One who said,

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand. (John 10:27–29 NKJV)

Not Alone ~
As I looked down through the tears and frustration of having no way to help and nothing to offer her, I realized that we were not alone. The Savior who had come to meet her in that other bedroom years ago, was right there, looking down on her again. When He first met Mom, she was strong and vibrant, not frail and destitute like now, but she was willing to give up everything to have Him.  Now, when everything else was really gone, she was still His, and He was right there … He was with her.

In the midst of my helplessness and heartache, the One who gave that promise to Mom back then said quietly, but with absolute authority, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this . . . It’s only dark a little longer, and the dawn that’s coming is like none she’s ever seen. Your mom’s going to wake to the brightest morning ever!”

  H A P P Y  M O T H E R ‘ S  D A Y  2 0 2 6

~ 🌹 🌹 🌹 ~

“TWEETABLES” ~ Click to tweet and share from the pull quotes below.  Each one links directly back to this article through Twitter . . .

• • The only thing remaining that Mom had absolute, unchallenged, and unassailable ownership of was the promise she received from the lips of her risen Savior as she knelt beside another bed so many decades earlier. @GallaghersPen (Click here to Tweet) 
  • Through the tears and frustration from having no way to help and nothing to offer her, I realized that we were not alone. The Savior who had come to meet Mom in that other bedroom years ago, was right there, looking down on her again. @GallaghersPen (Click here to Tweet) 
  • The One who gave that promise to Mom said quietly, but with absolute authority, “It’s only dark a little longer, and the dawn that’s coming is like none she’s ever seen. Your mom’s going to wake to the brightest morning ever.” @GallaghersPen (Click here to Tweet)

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