“When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, ‘Dear woman, here is your son, and to the disciple, Here is your mother.’ From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.” (John 19:26-27)
Many of you may not know that my mother died when I was at the tender age of seven. That was a traumatic time for me, but God had already made sure that someone would be around to step in and give me the mother’s love that I so desperately needed.
I remember the day my mother died like it was yesterday. I was on the playground during recess and saw my second-grade teacher talking to one of my mom’s best friends. I knew instantly that my mama was gone. Her friend had come to take me home.
We rode around town for what seemed like an eternity. I guess she was waiting for the shock from an unexpected death to settle down a little before she took me home to be with my dad. Or maybe she was waiting on the Lord to give her just the right words to explain the death of a mother to a seven-year-old little boy. Who would want to deliver news like that?
Her name was Ruth. She never had any children of her own. In fact, she and her husband lived with her mother and sister. Why they even had room for a boarder named Strick. I grew to love all of them as my extended family.
Shortly after my mother passed away, Ruth asked my dad if she could pick me up on Saturday nights and take me to church on Sunday mornings. She picked me and my sister, Debbie, up every Saturday night for several years. She bought us our Sunday clothes and took us to church.
When I got home from church, she taught me how to hang up my clothes. “The floor is not where your clothes belong,” she told me. That lesson wore well. The first thing I do when I get home from church today is hang up my clothes. And I tried teaching my children to do the same.
I never heard her say a critical word about anyone. And profanity was not welcome in her home either. In fact, all that I ever saw was Christian love in its purest form. The truth is she was the finest Christian I’ve ever known.
Ruth, like any mother, showed me unconditional love at its best. She saw me squander a lot of opportunities and watched me as I lived the early years of my adult life out as an unbeliever. In spite of all the sin and the decadence that my life reflected, she loved me anyway.
Today, I think I am saved because of the seeds that God helped her to plant. He could not have called a better servant to model godliness for my black heart.
For many years, I have wanted to pay tribute to her. I personally thanked her for being there during those years when no one else was around. And she knew that I loved her deeply. But the real lesson I carry from our relationship is that I never have to question what Christ was like. I just think of Ruth when I wonder, “What would Jesus do”?
Even though she’s been gone for several years now, I want to pay tribute to one who can claim no children of her own. And yet, there could be no finer example of what a mother should be.
Happy Mother’s Day, Ruth. I love you!
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