On occasion, I wish to take Wednesdays to offer gratitude for obscure causes and cares that are often overlooked by society. I began my endeavor last week by praising editors–that bastion of grammarians eagerly waiting to make a mockery when we mistake the “i” before “e” except after “c.”
Today, I wish to take the obscurity lane even farther and praise a particular kind of motherly act. Of course, mothers need to be praised every day with flower bouquets and assortments of coffee beans. But here, I am praising mothers who do something quite absurd, and most do it without expectation of gratitude. It’s the kind of activity that does not make it to the resume, but one for which I find compelling as a humanitarian aid of the greatest proportion. I am legitimately interested in the strange task of praising mothers who clean vomit and other Adamic side-effects from floors and other odd places.
I know, I know. How bizarre, sir! Certainly! But pray tell me: who is going to praise these godly saints on that last day for doing these tasks? Jesus will. And if he will acknowledge their works before the nations at the last day, why should we refuse to do so now?
Remember the text in Matthew 25 when Jesus is posing a series of questions concerning the service of the people. He says that the people saw him hungry and thirsty and naked. And the people answered: “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?” Then Jesus replied: “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” That application is not simply to some charitable cause of choice we find appealing in society. That application goes directly to the heart of mothering. Mothers of little children are daily confronted by the naked, hungry, and thirsty. They are daily providing the kind of physical protection that children are virtually incapable of providing themselves.
And what do they do especially in this season of sickness for their children? They uplift them from their pitiful looks as they aimlessly seek comfort, as their little mouths are dry from throwing up and excommunicating other things, their bodies feeble from barely eating. Yes, I wish to praise moms for this remarkable act of self-sacrifice for the cause of taking a weak child and resurrecting his strength and stamina to life again.
In a day when people will likely be attuned to “nobler” things, I wish to praise moms that clean the unthinkable; who bend their knees to comfort little children besieged (“i” before the “e”) by post-Fall pain, and who do it often without the slightest complaint. We honor you and thank you for your work! For as much as you have done these acts to the least of these–little children–you have done it unto our Lord.
