The Faces Of A Mother

There she was in the shopping cart.
A little girl with uneven pigtails on either side of her head.
She was watching her mom and talking to something that was not there.
I couldn’t quite guess her age because she had a pacifier in her mouth.

I was certain that she was holding her pacifier much like another child holds a blanket.
The fact that she could talk with the pacifier in her mouth astounded me.
As I passed her she smiled at me.
As she smiled at me, the pacifier fell out of her mouth.

The pacifier was bright pink with some sort of design on the plastic side.
I was ready to pick it up off the floor when her mother turned around and noticed.
Did you drop your Binky again? She asked the little girl.
The little girl shook her head and her pigtails shook with her.

In one fluid movement, her mom picked up the pacifier.
I wondered what she would do with it since it had fallen on the floor.
I got my answer, though it was not the one I expected.
The mom put her daughter’s pacifier in her own mouth.

She walked around with that pacifier in her mouth.
The bright pink plastic was noticeable to anyone who looked at her.
I know the little girl’s mom didn’t need a pacifier.
She must have had it in her mouth for another reason.

Seeing that sight made me think of Erma Bombeck.
Erma was known as an American humorist.
She achieved popularity because of her newspaper column.
Her column on suburban home life ran from the mid-1960s through the late 1990s.

During those years, Erma wrote over 4,000 columns.
Her columns ran twice a week and were read by 30 million readers in 900 newspapers.
Erma wrote 15 books and had many bestsellers.
Erma was a wife and mother of three children.

I have kept books for each of my children that I compiled myself.
I included quotes, news articles, and stories that seemed to pertain to each child.
The book has my notes from their doctor’s visits for their first year of life.
It has snippets of their hair from their first hair cut and even their first lost tooth.

The books will be theirs someday to show their own children.
I remembered that I had an article from Erma Bombeck in one of the books.
I thought it was in one of my older daughter’s books but discovered that it was in my son’s book.
The book of my first born son, my third child; when I saw the title I knew why I put it there.

It was called, Three Faces of the Mother of Three Kids.
I remember laughing at the truth Erma expressed in that column.
I had three children at the time and I could relate.
Erma tapped into the daily life of a mother with her simple humor.

Child Number 1 got the Antiseptic Queen, a thin nervous woman endowed with patience and dedicated to staying at home boiling things all day long, as if she was living through a typhoid epidemic. She boiled pacifiers, toys and diapers…and hand-smocked little dresses…Child Number 2 got Super Sufferer, who had stretch marks on her face from overeating and dragged around in her husband’s shirts. She couldn’t get a meal together until 7 and fell asleep during root canal…She once rescued the pacifier from the coffee grounds and rinsed it with the garden hose before sticking it into the baby’s mouth.
Child Number 3 got Mother Mellow, who didn’t much care what he did as long as he had clean hands and his own door key. Birth and graduation pictures were on the same film…this mother actually revealed a sense of humor and admitted to mistakes from time to time. She ironed on demand – just the parts that showed. (Erma Bombeck)

I did not dare put the woman in the store into one of Erma’s categories.
However, I am certain the mother had the pacifier in her own mouth so she could clean it.
Erma would be proud!
I knew I had to find that article to see if I remembered correctly.

We mothers have stories we could tell.
We have been sneezed on, thrown up on, and experienced the leaky diaper on our new pants.
We have used our hand to catch unwanted food.
We have used our sleeve to wipe a runny nose, though we would never admit it.

We have been the cheerleader on the sidelines.
We have been the hand that won’t let go until they say so.
We have been the spotter for the newfound skill on the monkey bars.
We have been the official swing pusher.

We can croon a lullaby better than anyone.
We can read the favorite book with just the right inflection.
We know how the covers should be pulled up to the neck but not too tightly.
We are the best monster chasers in the whole world.

We sleep in the bed that is the best place to be in a thunderstorm.
We are the nurse who can soothe a fevered brow.
We are the doctor who can bandage a knee with precision.
We are the keeper of secret dreams and fears.

We are the arms that will always envelop.
We are the lap that always has room.
We are the back that can carry another burden.
We are the heart that can barely contain all the love we have for each of our children.

We are a mother.
We are irreplaceable.
We are the only one that gets a, Hi Mom, on TV.
We are the one face in the crowd they want to see.

We are the one voice they want to hear when things are just too hard.
We are the voice that says, You can do it, when their confidence is shaken.
We are the one that does not become their friend until they are much older.
We are the one who sheds tears for all reasons and for no reason.

We are building character.
We are teaching manners.
We are exemplifying life skills.
We are showing them the Servant heart of God.

As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you. (Isaiah 66:13)

We are the front lines.
We show them who God is when we serve and love well.
We give them a glimpse of the God who will never leave them or forsake them.
We show them what unconditional love really looks like.

There are hundreds of faces of the mothers of hundreds of children.
God made them all.
We are made in God’s image.
A mother is God’s hands and feet to her children.

A mother is unconditional love with skin on.
That is what God gave to us when He sent His Son, Jesus.
That is what the Incarnation is all about.
Jesus is unconditional Love with skin on.

We are in good company.