Fairy God-Mothers

Disclaimer:  I love my mother very much, and she loves me. 

I want to be sure I make that perfectly clear before I write this blog.  For those who don't know her or understand her life, what I say next might lead some to think her harsh or unkind.  That is simply not true.  

At the age of 21, I chose to leave the faith in which I was raised.  My mother and step-father are Jehovah's Witnesses.  They are happy to be such, but I was not.  At first I rebelled morally, which was extremely self-destructive.  Later, I was challenged to examine the faith of my biological father, and was surprised to discover that the true person of Jesus Christ was what I'd been looking for my entire life.  He filled the God-shaped hole in my heart like nothing and no one ever had or could.

By choosing to become a member of a church, I knew what I was doing to the relationship with my mother.  I would be disfellowshipped and considered an apostate.  I would be "the dog that returned to its vomit."  Jehovah's Witnesses shun those who choose to leave their fold and are allowed no contact whatsoever.  I was fully aware that by choosing Jesus Christ as God the Son I was drawing that line in the sand over which my mother could not cross.

I miss my mother very much, and I know she misses me.

However, God promised very clearly that He would honor this incredibly difficult decision; 

And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.   Matthew 19:29

Today, as I prepared for a meeting held in my home on Thursday afternoons, I was reminded of one answer to that promise, Charlotte Kirk.  

My own mother was an incredible hostess.  She was an excellent example of how to show hospitality to guests, and we had a warm, welcoming home.  As a young person, however, I saw this as unwelcome work, and secretly  (and sometimes not so secretly) resented the effort that went into cleaning and cooking for others.

As a young wife and mother myself, however, I wished I had paid more attention to the logistics of her preparations.  I love having people fill my home, and truly wanted to offer the same haven my mother provided.

Enter Charlotte.  She's a bit younger than my own mother (in case you read this, Charlotte,  you are most definitely NOT old enough to be my mom!), but she possesses the same gift for making people feel welcome that my mother has.  She would get up early in the morning, before going to work, and would bake some special treat for her office mates or for the potluck she'd be attending that night.  Charlotte always had some special yumminess ready and waiting for surprise drop-in guests as well.  Her home was consistently tidy, but not spotless, and she always made time to talk to you, even if it was in the midst of busyness.  She'd just scurry around the kitchen while you sat and enjoyed her hospitality.  Somehow, I never felt like I was imposing.  

I learned so much from Charlotte, not because she did anything different from my own mother, but because I cared to learn it.  As I soaked up all that Charlotte unknowingly taught me, I grew in my own ability to serve through hospitality, and I learned to absolutely adore the effort that goes into maintaining a welcome safe-haven for life-weary friends and strangers (also known as soon-to-be-friends).  There is very little that makes me happier than baking a batch of cookies or vacuuming a rug and fluffing pillows in preparation for potential drop-in friends.  My door is always open, and this is in no small part thanks to my God-mothers like Charlotte Kirk, Mary-Lou Money, Fran Miller, Dorothy Hake, Betty DeHaas...and so many more...hundreds, in fact, just like the promise says.

It is an honor to now be in the season in which I find myself.  I have become a spiritual mother, and next week I will add a new daughter to my family.  Thanks to my own mother and all those mothers God has given me, I am excited to be that older woman who can take the younger under her wing.