Last time I blogged, I shared with you my mother's humble beginnings. Her life started out like most of ours - simple, easy to understand and quite ordinary.
Now don't get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with ordinary. Ordinary is fine. Ordinary is good. Very often, ordinary is safe.
The thing is, although my mother's life started out ordinary, it hasn't been so for many, many years. She was granted an ordinary childhood and ordinary early adulthood, but as she followed God into marriage with my father, she also followed God's calling out of the ordinary and into a life of wonder, adventure, hardship and success.
I've just spent the last 30 minutes reading a mail from her, in which she talks about studying, getting married, starting a family and following God's calling to move to an isolated place in Norway. I've read about my family's journey from Norway to Tanzania, and how that impacted my mother. I've read about her feelings as she tried to adjust to a culture so thoroughly different than her own. I've read about her feelings as she realized these differences also impacted her offspring.
And I cried.
My eyes brimmed over over with hot, salty tears as I realized that my mother is no where near ordinary.
My mother, although quiet and humble of nature, is a giant when it comes to servanthood and discipleship. She is a monument of faithfulness and loyalty.
She is simply put extraordinary. (Strange word, by the way - extra & ordinary - why does that mean better than or above ordinary, and not simply ordinary x2?)
My mother grew up in a christian home, and as a teenager, she joined the youth group when it travelled to other places to be a part of youth meetings and conferences. She met my father at such a conference, on Bornholm, the small island in the Baltic where I now live with my family.
The story of how they met often embarrasses my mother. It shouldn't, though, because the romance that began a late night after a church meeting has now lasted for more than 45 years! They saw each other across the room, and my father motioned for her to follow him out the door after the meeting. She did. And they've been a couple ever since.
My mother moved from her home town of Randers, in Jutland, to Bornholm, so that she could be closer to my father. To support herself, she lived with and worked for a doctor's family, cooking, cleaning and taking care of the children. After a while, she decided to educate herself and began studying to become a nursing assistant. Studying was hard. She was 19, pretty much alone, and no one took particularly care of her at the hospital. She had to figure our for herself how to do most things. Her boss was a strict nurse offering very little warmth and encouragement, and my mother was often so nervous, that she almost fainted just going to work in the morning!
You see, although my mother is best described as my hero, I am not blind to the fact that she is human, and therefore as frail and imperfect as myself. She has her flaws - of course! If she didn't, I don't think she would be as interesting as she is.
It is exactly because of her mortal state as a human that I find her so noteworthy. She is living proof to me that if you follow God - trust in Him with all that's in you - and if you do your best, God will allow you to be part of His great big adventure! Your life will come to matter in ways you have not imagined. You will be able to make a lasting difference in someone elses life!
And as I strive to do just that, it's encouraging to look to someone else who has gone before me - who has done it. Who knows what it's like to burn with desire to serve and please God - but who also knows how difficult it is while you also strive to be a good mother and a good wife.
My mother is a woman. Within her beats a heart as soft, warm and loving as mine - and as yours.
That's just one of the many reasons why I love my mother.
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