Janylu - It is hard to imagine my mother as a child. I wasn't there for it. Her parents had seven kids in ten years, and then ten years later along comes Janice Lucille...oops! It runs in the family! My sister has a sewing machine that my mother gave her that was her mother's. It's an antique. Of course it wasn't an antique when it was in my grandmother's sewing room. That's what happens to your stuff when you live a long time. There is a drawer in the sewing machine that used to contain threads, needles, thimbles and pins, etc...of course they're all gone now. Yet that drawer contains something much more valuable. My mother scribbled her name in it when she was a small child. She showed it to me once. Her parents, brothers & sisters are all gone now. The farm house. The sewing room. And my mom.
Preacher's Wife - A boy today might see a super-preacher in their town or church and want to be the same. We did have one super-preacher where I grew up, but I certainly didn't want to be like him. I wanted to be like my dad. Though he is a super preacher he has never been a super-preacher. Now that I have had twenty five years to think about it I think much of the reason I am in ministry today is due to my mom. She was his biggest fan. Every Sunday on our drive home there would be at least one positive comment from my mom about my dad's message. I remember her, a number of times, telling me her favorite preacher was my dad. I never heard her second guess or criticize anything he ever said from the pulpit. I never remember her sitting anywhere other than front and center. She always was smiling. Always laughed at his jokes (some she heard dozens of times; few were actually funny). Is it any wonder I wanted to be a preacher?! Darn her!
Loving Mother - I really shouldn't take the time to list everything about her 60 years in ministry or motherhood, since some of you are learning about her for the first time. Just a sketch. I tell people all the time that if I had been born in '74 instead of '64 I probably wouldn't be here. Abortion wasn't legal in '64 when my birth mother gave me up. That's when I became a Burdick. I had a college professor that used to say "People who support abortion have never had it practiced on them". Anyway, I am who I am today because of at least two women (and many, many more believe me). My first and last memory of my mother are the same. Enjoying her embrace. When I played hooky from school I used to get her to bring me McDonald's home for lunch. I know, I was spoiled. Her defense of me was always, "He's going through a stage". The baby of the family.
Inspiration - I am having a hard time deciding what to share because I don't want this to be a cumbersome flight, so allow me to land with this: At eighty my mother decided to go on a mission trip to New Mexico to work with Native Americans. When I asked her why she simply said, "Because I have always wanted to be a part of a mission trip". When she returned I asked her what she felt she contributed the most. She told me without hesitation that God had called her to the team because of one woman that needed encouragement. She wasn't Native American. She was the missionary's wife! Alone. Broken. Discouraged. God sent my mom to her. Pretty cool, huh? But then again, it wasn't the first time. God sent my mom to a lot of special people over the years. I am one. My mom is gone now, but her scribbled name remains hidden in my heart.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
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