The Light She Was

Today is my mom and her twin sister Connie’s birthday.

I’m looking at this old picture of the two of them, both smiling, both full of life. Same blood. Same history.

And as I look at it, I’m reminded of something I probably don’t stop often enough to say.

A mother matters.

She matters to a young man trying to figure out how to become a man. She matters to a daughter learning what it means to be strong while still being tender.

God gave men a big responsibility as the head of the house. Sometimes we men can thump our chests and act like we’re the whole thing. We’re the provider, the protector, the one responsible for holding everything together.

But the longer I live, and after 47 years with my wife, the more I realize just how much of God’s nature I see expressed through a woman and through a mother.

Don’t get me wrong. Men are needed. The safety, stability, and covering a father brings to his family matters tremendously.

But a mother brings something different, and I don’t think we should ever underestimate it.

God created both male and female in His image. I don’t pretend to fully understand the mystery of all of that. But I do believe He designed us this way intentionally. When a husband and wife are knit together in marriage, each brings something the other cannot. God uses those differences to make us stronger together than we could ever be on our own.

So today I’m just thankful.

I’m thankful for my mom and her faithfulness. I’m thankful for the way she loved us kids and the way she loved my dad. I’m thankful for the light she brought into our home when we needed it.

And all these years later, looking at this picture of my mom and I, I realize something.

That light still reaches me.

Even now.

Happy birthday, Mom. And happy birthday, Connie.