If you know the story of Mother Teresa, you know that she experienced the worst of this world can throw at people. Despite that, she remained focus and determined to the very end and helped innumerable people in the process. Sometimes life has a way of getting us down no matter how hard we try. This short but inspirational poem from Mother Teresa reminds us why it is important to always persevere.
People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.
FORGIVE them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
BE KIND anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
SUCCEED anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.
BE HONEST and SINCERE anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
CREATE anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
BE HAPPY anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
DO GOOD anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
GIVE YOUR BEST anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.
My mother died days after I turned six years old. For six years, my father raised myself and my three brothers by himself to fulfill a promise he had made to my mother. When I was twelve, my father remarried and we plunged head first into the world of step families. At the time, it all seemed so very normal to me at the same time all the while knowing that my family was different. There were some struggles and some hard times, but that’s family. That’s my story. We all have a story, and for those of us who did not grow up in “traditional families” often have stories marked by loss, pain and longing for something we felt like we should have had. It’s not always all bad though. Sometimes our stories are also marked by perseverance and overcoming. We want to hear your stories. More importantly, we want other people to hear your stories.
Today’s article is for the church and should represent a call to action to those of us in the church who minister to, or care about, children. Proverbs 31:8 tells us to,
Yesterday was January 15th. On that date, in 1944, my mother was born in Pennsylvania. In 1967, she married my Dad and became Jeanne Stocks. I was born five years later, the third of four boys. My Mom would have been 70 years old yesterday. God had other plans though, and my mother died on September 8, 1978 at the young age of 34 less than six months after my younger brother was born and two weeks after I turned six years old. I know now that she had been sick for several months leading up to her death, but at the time that never registered in my young mind.
It was, as far as I knew at the time, just like any other regular Friday. I woke up and rode the bus to my first grade class at Bass Hoover Elementary School in Stephens City, Virginia. That afternoon, I rode the bus home totally unaware of how my life was about to be forever altered. When my older brothers and I arrived home, the door was locked. That was unusual, but at six it seemed more like an adventure than a problem. We walked across the street of our quiet little neighborhood to the Miller’s house. They were an older couple who treated us like grandkids. Mr. Miller was a volunteer fireman with a model train set in his basement. He was one of my favorite people. I fondly recall all the hours I spent at the Miller’s house.
When we explained the situation, the Miller’s called my Dad at work to let him know what was going on. Years later I would find out that he knew exactly what he was going to find when he got home. My mother had relayed a story to him years earlier about someone in her family who had passed away when she was younger (it may have been her mother, but I do not recall), and she (and her sisters I believe) found the body when they got home. She had told my Dad that she had always wished that they would have, at least, locked the door so the kids couldn’t get in and find the body. When he heard from the neighbors that the door was locked, combined with knowledge of all the health issues from the preceding months, he knew what he would find when he came home. He asked that the neighbors keep us at their house for a while. As a husband myself now, and father to four kids, I can only imagine what he must have been going through.
The Miller’s were wonderful hosts, but the time seemed to drag on and on for me. It’s scary as a kid not knowing what is going on. After what seemed like an eternity, my father came and collected us and took us back over to the house. I vividly remember walking into the master bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed with my father and my brothers. Even at six years old, the air felt very heavy. My father, no doubt reeling from the day’s events himself, calmly explained to us that our Mom was gone in the best words he could find to use. He asked if any of us had any questions. I remember asking something, but I couldn’t tell you to this day what it was.
The things we go through don’t always make sense. In the midst of our pain, it is hard to step back and ask what the purpose of it might be. Rest assured of the fact that when you are going through something difficult, God’s plan and God’s desire is to help you to grow stronger and wiser through that pain. It might not be easier to go through, but it is comforting, even in the throws of pain, to know that there is something good that can come out it.
