Mother’s Day (11 May)
A Salute To Motherly Love
 

ately, I have been reading a book about mothers. I know I’m one, but I find I don’t always know how to be one — not the fairy type of mother, but the kind God wants us to be. I am often short-fused with children. I don’t know exactly how many other mothers get this way, but the few that I’ve shared this with, ended up exchanging high fives with me. The book I’m reading included a story about Thomas, an eight-year-old boy, many years ago. Thomas, rather sickly and partially deaf, lagged far behind his peers in academics. Teachers tended to be easily exasperated with him because he was slow on the uptake. His classmates were quick to show him this same exasperation. It was common for them to talk down to him or make fun of his mistakes. His was an unkind world. But in that world, Thomas had a mother. A mother he came home to after each and every doggone day in school. A mother who was happy to have him. A mother who would sit with him at the kitchen counter and listen to how badly his day had gone. I put down the book for a moment and asked God to make me like that. A mother can do more than just read between the lines. There are mothers who can read sadness and loneliness in their children’s faces. When something is wrong, they’ll know by the expression in their eyes, or by the way their children walk, or by the way their heads hang down. One day, Thomas came home with a letter from the headmaster of the school. Thomas was being expelled because his brain was addled. His mother didn’t fuss much about the letter. She hugged Thomas, saying everything would be okay. She knew he was slower than most others, but she believed Thomas could learn if lessons were taught to him more slowly. She worked on teaching him herself at home. It began to work. He began to pick up speed. Pretty soon, he started to device new things, inventing this and that — a lot of them silly in the beginning. When Thomas finally died, an entire nation — the people of the United States — honoured him by switching off the lights throughout America for one minute. This tribute was paid to the same Thomas whose headmaster expelled him from school because his brain worked slower; the one who lived with seeing classmates nudge each other and laugh at him. This Thomas was Thomas Alva Edison, inventor of the light bulb and phonograph. And that headmaster and the jeering classmates, where were they when America turned its lights off? I put the book down for a second. My heart was cheering for Thomas. And also for his mom. If she were here, I’d salute her. May God make me just a little more like her. Mrs. Edison, wherever you are, thank you. Author Unknown Via e-mail