This Sunday is Mother’s Day and I plan to do something I haven’t done for the past decade or so, and that is preach a Mothers Day sermon. My mother died in January 2010, and for two years before that she was very ill, a difficult time for us as a family. So when Mother’s Day came around for the past 10 or so years, it was just too emotional, so I either reminded the congregation that Mother’s Day really isn’t a biblical holiday (which it isn’t!) and continued whatever series I was preaching on at the time or I would delegate the Mother’s Day sermon to an associate or intern (who needed the practice).
Over the years, I had been through most of the godly mothers mentioned in the Bible. One colleague suggested that we try preaching about Jezebel as a negative role model, but I never dared to do that! While I certainly will mention my mother on Sunday, the message will not be about her. But in order to honour her, I will write about her here.
My mother grew up in a German settlement in Romania called “Siebenbürgen” (Seven Fortresses). She grew up in a blended home with a step-father, after her father was out of the family picture for some reason. Mom left home at the age of 14. During the Second World War, the Russians invaded and later annexed Romania, and deported many people into slave labour to Russia. Although Mom didn’t talk very much about those times, I did hear some of her stories about hard labour in road construction. Unbelievable conditions for a teenager. It left scars that remained with her for life, both emotionally and physically.
At some point Mom arrived in what was later to become East Germany. Friends took her to a Baptist church, where mom found the Lord Jesus as her personal saviour. Some of the friendships formed in the youth group lasted the rest of her life. We had a Christmas nativity set that was a gift from one of those friends. Sometimes when mom asked me to mail a letter for her, she would tell me about the person to whom the letter was going, and what that person meant to her.
After the war had ended, Mom was able to flee to West Germany and ended up in Munich, where she met my father, and where I was born after they had married. For a brief time we moved to the Black Forest and lived in a flat in the same building as my paternal grandparents – three generations under one roof. But this was only a transitional time until the preparation for our immigration to Canada was complete. We landed in Halifax in 1956 and lived first in Windsor, where my younger sister, Gudrun was born. Our pastor, Rev. John Goetze, who had married my parents in Munich, found some work more suited for Dad in Kitchener, and we moved here in 1958 where we have been at home ever since. My younger brother Norbert was born here.
Our first home in Kitchener was within walking distance of Victoria Park, and mom took us there often to play. I don’t know if the wading pool that is there now is the same one that we used, but it was great fun. To this very day Park Street goes straight through the Victoria Park, and so at mom’s funeral we decided to route the procession to the church through there.
My mother was a stay-at-home mom. While Dad worked long hours to make ends meet, our mother managed the household and the raising of us 3 not-always-so-good kids mainly by herself. Mom never drove a car, yet she managed the family’s shopping all by herself. She knew the transit system very well, and I’m sure she would be amazed by our soon to launch LRT. When we were old enough, she took us kids along to the market, and we helped carry the goodies home. As a reward we usually received some type of a treat from the bakery.
Our mother was a woman of child-like faith. She taught us to pray even before we started school. A German “Kinderbibel” (Children’s Bible) had stories that she would read to us at night. Discipline was administered swiftly as needed with a wooden spoon. Mom did not believe in “wait until your Dad comes home”. She preferred to solve the problem on the spot!
Mother managed to raise us without the amenities of daycare, nor the other parenting resources available today. With little formal education beyond grade school, and never having studied psychology, she had an unbelievable wisdom, and like all mothers, eyes in the back of her head. You just couldn’t outsmart her even though we tried our best.
As soon as we were old enough, we did the usual things that children do on Mother’s Day. We made or later bought cards, made gifts, bought flowers, made Sunday Afternoon Coffee and Cake on Mother’s Day. Mom accepted all of this graciously, although she drew the line at breakfast in bed. She just didn’t want that and we were never allowed to do that. I also know that she silently wished that all that attention would be spread throughout the year.
Everybody thinks they had the best mom, and we were no different. But we also know that our mother was not perfect. As we work through our grief, those things that were imperfect also surface. I often struggled with why we cannot simply forget those things. But I am comforted, that Mom is now surrounded by the presence of Jesus, because of the same grace that covers my own shortcomings, even when I wasn’t the perfect son.