“THE BIBLE’S WORST MOM.” That was my pastor’s sermon on Mother’s Day, yesterday.
The kid’s got guts. I’ll give him that, along with a tax-deductible charitable contribution and a little extra for the building fund, since my Bible study group is meeting out back in a trailer.
I went in the opposite direction for my Sunday morning Bible study: “A mother I respect.”
I took the high road. He took the scenic route.
It occurred to me to go in the opposite direction, too. But better him than me. He controls what is said in the room because he’s doing the saying. In my discussion class, I can’t control what others say – and I don’t want to. I want folks to speak their mind, raise their questions, and offer their insights.
But about their rotten, stinky cheese moms? On Mother’s Day?
I have, however, been thinking about rotten moms this Mother’s Day.
Not because I’ve got one. I don’t.
I’ve been thinking about them because I know a few of them.
One died not too long ago. I had heard she was abusive and mean-spirited toward her kids – constantly criticizing them, humiliating them, and peeling away each onion layer of self-esteem. Until little was left but the crying.
I asked her grown daughter how she felt about her mother’s departure from the planet.
I know other despicable moms who aren’t dead yet.
Relief for their families will have to wait.
What a tragic legacy.
I don’t want to die leaving my kids and grandkids pretending to celebrate my life when in truth they’re celebrating my death – and the fact that my mouth lies under six feet of fill dirt.
As I thought about the terrible moms I’ve known, I found myself wishing they had never been moms.
If some of those women had to pass a mothering test like they have to pass a driving test, they’d have gotten ditched.
I had a second thought.
If those women had not been moms, some of the most selfless and loving human beings I’ve ever met would not have been born.
I’m not excusing bad moms.
I’m saying bad moms don’t seem to get in God’s way.