Covenanter Witness Vol. 86 - Rparchives.org

I'M THE ONLY MOTHER MY CHILDRENWILL EVERHAVEYd Better Be A Good OneRuthVaughnI had only one mother — and she was a good one!The memories I retain of life at home are warm and good.She gave herself to the task of motherhood. Shepenned in her diary: "Training my children is the mostimportant task I have while they are under my care andnothing shall interfere with that training. The housework,joyed my numerous parties. She joked about it when shehad guests and discovered too late that I had used all ofthe sugar the night before in a fudge party. She liked myfriends.My only mother was proud when I won honors, andbuilt me back up when I lost. Her eyes flashed tears of joychurch demands, social obligations — all must be subservientwhen I was happy. Her arms held me tightly when I wasto my children's welfare."This she practiced!sad. My mother filled my world with happiness, love, andGod. She kept her spiritual life so lovely and radiant that IDespite the demands as a busy wife, she alwaysfound time to spend with us. Under a large tree, she wouldtell us the stories from the Bible, illustrating them in thesand with rocks and stones for houses and mountains andlived in the splendor of it all of my life.I had only one mother — and she was a good one!She shaped my life for good. If she had not been a goodmother, my life would be different. How I thank God forrepresenting the patriarchs of old with twigs. She captured my mother and all the mothers who have given ofour imaginations; and our heroes became David instead ofFabian, and Mary instead of Liz Taylor.We were taught the Scriptures and to pray before wecould say much else. Before we started school, we couldrecite the books of the Bible in order, the twelve disciples,and quote more Scripture than many ministers. We grewup with the Word of God as an integral part of our lives.themselves for their children.I occasionally slip into the nursery in my house andlook at the sleeping forms of my children. I am nowfashioning their memories of home. I am now moldingtheir adult lives and influencing their relationships withGod.Unless accident comes, I am the only mother myThe only mother I ever had, penned in her diary: children will ever have. I'd better be a good one! ..."The sculptor spends hours in shaping the features of theReprinted by permission of American Tract Society—aface; the painter labors to give color to the hair or expressionto the face. Their work is to stand for ages tonon-profit organization. Publishers of Christian literatsince 1825, Oradell, New Jersey 07649come. But I, as a mother, am shaping substances moreimperishable than canvas or marble. I can afford to bepatient and wait long for results. I have all eternity inwhich to watch developments."A LETTER TO YOU, DAD!My mother worked patiently and consistently. Whenwe grew older, she would pick out chapters and portionsof Scriptures, give us scissors, glue, a bundle of magazines,and a scrapbook. Then she would challenge us to illustratethese chapters with pictures from the magazines. Weaccepted the challenge, loved every minute of it — and,The gift we're giving you this year, Dad, is not onewe can send in a package or a letter. The syndicated cardsthat are beautifully written, and the luxurious gifts thatmay be sent, are too cheap and inadequate to express thereal love we have for you.not incidentally, memorized those chapters word forThe quiet faith you had in us when we were new atword.this job of living, and the courage you displayed for us inShe played Bible games with us! If we ran out of new those long, lean days of poverty and depression . . . these,ones, she created some. She could always be counted on without knowing, you gave to us — our heritage. Thesefor fun, companionship, and — although we were often are the seeds you scattered of which you were unaware —unaware of it — religious training.these are the seeds that you thought were husks.She told us the Bible stories and then challenged usYou taught us that life holds in it many defeats, butto live like the heroes we came to adore. We could listen that persistence often transforms them into successes.to the story of the sweet spirit of Joseph, the trust of And, Dad, if we ever amount to anything in life, we canDavid, and dream that "some day" we would live like that! say confidently that these are the fruits of your labors.But she challenged us to be like that now! She gave to our Because you prayed, we pray; you read the Bible, we readdreams of service an outlet so they could find fulfillment. ours; vou lived so that we and others know you were a realShe soothed me when I was sick. She played Ping- man. That seed remains in us, and some day you'll see thePong with me in the basement, dolls in the house, and harvest. That, Dad, is our gift to you!baseball in the street. She listened to my opinions andYour Childmade me feel important. She made me believe she en­Telescope-MessengerAPRIL 28, 1971 3