I was 19, a freshman in college, with a 5 year old sister, and 9 and 11 year old brothers. I had been burping babies, changing diapers, making formula, potty-training, playing peek-a-boo and carrying kids around on my hip since I was 7 years old. I was tired and didn’t want any more children in my life. Yet here I was, standing across the room from my mother and my “Baby-daddy” , listening to him say how he didn’t want to have to be responsible, just wanted to do what he wanted to do and that’s all. He didn’t feel he was ready to marry me, but maybe in 6 months or so. By that time I would be big as a house and ready to deliver. He wouldn’t cover my shame, or be by my side, or support me when I needed it. He would be footloose and fancy free, and I would be tied down for the next 18 years at least. As I listened to my mother tell him that he would never have to worry himself - this baby would never miss a meal or have need of anything as long as it lived - I heard the echo of years past. This conversation, these words were familiar to her. And we were living proof. Something rose up in me – a strength I never knew I had, and I inwardly agreed with my mother. This child would never lack. We would do whatever it took – without his help.
 

As I carried her in my belly, I realized that although I was experienced in the practical aspects of raising a child (changing diapers and such), I knew nothing about shaping that child’s personality and future, making her into a responsible adult, a valuable member of society with good judgment and a sense of responsibility. I remember crying out to God in quiet desperation for Him to help me raise this child, teach me what to do, and be with me through it all. And I learned to listen as that still small voice instructed and guided. He taught me to discipline her without breaking her spirit. He taught me to listen to her actions and see her unspoken needs.  He taught me how to laugh with her and dance out loud, and do crazy things at unexpected moments that gave her wings and taught her to soar. He taught me how to endure pain and disappointment, and how to forgive. He taught me how to mend her hurts, and bandage her spirit, and gently pick up her broken pieces. He taught me ministry.

And here we are – thirty-seven years later. We’ve always been an odd couple, and now that we’ve added a wonderful granddaughter to the bunch, we’re a unique threesome. We have a tradition of buying multiple greeting cards for whatever the occasion is. Unfortunately we sometimes forget to send them. This past Christmas, she sent me home with a collection of cards- birthday, mother’s day and just- because cards – but I forgot about them until I was found them in my suitcase the other day. They’re all nontraditional for a nontraditional mother (my mother would have been appalled at the absence of flowery sentimentality, but if you know me, you know that I have no appreciation for roses or flowery-ness) and perfect for me. And I’d like to share one with you today.

It’s a navy blue card with child-like black and white sketching on front, and it says “To Mom – The woman who taught me to defy gravity. Happy Mother’s Day”. Perfect, right? Then she writes on the inside…”Ma, You taught me how to walk and go potty, you taught me how to listen and obey. You taught me how to defend and stand up for myself. You taught me to “question authority”. You taught me that it’s okay to make mistakes. You taught me to do my best. You taught me to be STRONG and to be different. You taught me how to love unconditionally (first hand). You taught me to get it together and “suck it up’. You taught me not to use excuses, but to accept the consequences of my own actions. You taught me to be ME. And that’s how I learned to defy gravity. I only hope I can do the same for (my daughter) that you do for me.”
 

I had no idea that when I prayed that simple prayer of asking God to help me raise a good child, that He would do such a fantastic job. I know it wasn’t me – I was too messed up myself. But I realized along the way that when He entrusted this soul into my care, it was because I must have had something unique to impart to her that no one else could. Yes, I see things a little differently from most people. My life has been a mass of contradictions, goof-ups, and journeys on roads less traveled, and I’ve dragged her along with me, sometimes cringingly. But I’ve cried out to God for her in ways that no one else could have. What I didn’t realize was that we’ve grown up together. We’re both different from what we started out being. Every tear, every embarrassing moment, every perceived mistake was worth it all in the end. I never would have thought that He could make something so great out of what some thought of as a mistake. But isn’t that just like our God? He takes the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. He takes the weak and makes them strong. He takes the rejects and makes them rulers. He takes nothingness and shapes a world. He took me and created us… and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.