The Women Who Raise Us

For this week's posting, Friday at Five, I wanted to step away from the Conversations at Midnight series to write about another woman's issue that's been on my heart.

As we head into Mother’s Day weekend, I’ve been reflecting on a simple truth…we all came from someone. Not especially profound, it's like the deep theological insight you’d read on a coffee mug! But regardless of age, marital status, nationality, bank account, or even how strong your coffee was this morning, everyone has a mother.

Maybe that mother raised you, maybe she didn't. Perhaps life presented complications. Maybe our stories include adoption; foster parents; grandparents; stepmothers; aunties; sisters; spiritual mothers; neighbours; teachers; authors; or women who simply stepped in when life left a gap.

Still…somebody carried us. Somebody endured swollen ankles, sleepless nights, cravings at midnight, backaches, roller-coaster hormones, and the mysterious ability to cry whenever they saw someone else's baby…just so we could be here.

That person chose life for us, and for that alone we can be grateful. Mother's Day is about giving thanks. Whether we are single, married, raising children, wishing we had children…or didn't..whether we are empty nesters or have never borne children at all. Mother's Day is about the sacrifices someone else made to get us here!

When I remember my late mother, I recall an intelligent, motivated, and often fiery redhead who completed a nursing degree on her own, determined to escape the poverty she grew up in. She then put my father through school, extending to him that same opportunity to flee the family tax bracket.

I was her second child and very much a surprise. Not the balloons and confetti kind;

the kind that made her stare at her test results and say, "Lord, didn't we discuss this?"

Her first pregnancy had been difficult; bearing another was out of the question. She carried me anyway. And life was tough. There were seasons of divorce, uncertainty… storms that no family ever really plans for. Amid that chaos, she somehow made sure there was a roof over our heads; clothes on our backs (even if they were from the K-Mart clearance rack) and food on the table. Double, sometimes triple shifts at the psyche hospital where she was an RN, the ability to stretch a dollar, and strength from the good Lord, were her only allies.

I can still taste her biscuits and gravy…beans and cornbread…and spaghetti, still the family favorite. But Mom did more than just ensure we survived. She taught us Bible stories, took us to church, taught me how to roller skate—which, if you’ve ever seen me on skates, was clearly an act of tremendous faith. When we lived in Southern Cal, she would pack an ice-chest full of bologna sandwiches and popcorn so that we could get in on the double feature drive-in movie specials. I thought she was the coolest mom ever!

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She could be fierce. She could be fun. Like most moms, she wanted her kids to experience the best life possible on a shoestring budget.

As I look back now, I realize my mother was not the only woman who raised me.

Virleen was my best friend’s mom. She became an anchor in my teenage years, when life seemed no longer bearable, offering a warm hug and a listening ear. Even better, she prayed with me to receive the Holy Spirit, who set me on a path of freedom I never imagined was possible. I don't think I would have made it through my teens without her.

My aunts, Joanne Necessary and Ruby Qualls, taught me the gift of hospitality, as they both opened their hearth and home to me countless times. So many of my best childhood memories happened in their presence and homes.

Judy Smith was a Bible professor and YWAM missionary who taught us to study the Bible inductively. Book by book and chapter by chapter she encouraged us to let God's words form and fashion not just our theology, but our hearts.

There were my piano teachers, women who did far more than teach me piano. When Donna Erdman was growing up, she had to practice on a paper keyboard she had made herself, as her family didn't own a real one. Lynn Ewing found me a baby grand piano to house-sit while I was completing my diploma work. Pianists know that’s not just mentorship…that’s love! Never afraid to be direct, she insisted I'd never pass the exam without developing the right touch. She was right, and under her tutelage, I passed!

Donna and Lynn taught me perseverance, discipline, the beauty of music, and the sacredness of daily practice.

Then here was Jeannie Dunbar, the little blond RN and pastor's wife who saw something in me before I fully saw it myself. We went on many adventures to First Nations villages in the north, her encouragement to sing, to own my heritage and story, propelling me to do things I never dreamed possible. Because she saw it... I lived it.

Joanne Spencer was the woman who mentored me in ministry, coaching me in what what it meant not only to be a pastor’s wife, but one in my own right.

There were also the authors: Corrie Ten Boom, whose determination to rescue babies at risk in the Nazi regime landed her in a concentration camp. Her decision to forgive a guard who beat her sister proved to me that if she could forgive, so could I. If she survived, so would I! If she could help, so should I! Ann Kiemel and Catherine Marshal's stories showed me how uncomplicated it is to follow Jesus: just listen and do what He tells you.

There were also singers: Annie Herring, whose daily walk with Jesus included hours alone writing songs, encouraged me to pursue my own times with Him. Dolly Parton, whose transparency made so many of us feel better about ourselves. She still provides jobs and the gift of reading to so many people in Appalachia, where I was born.

As I reflect this morning, I realize something beautiful…

Some of the women who shaped me the most never gave birth at all. And some of them stepped in long after childhood. Although it's true that no one can ever replace one's biological mom, motherhood is not just about giving birth; it is the God-given ability to nurture life, to protect, and call it forward…to feed, guide, and always to fight for it.

Who are the women who helped raise you? And who are the ones you are helping raise?

Happy Mother's Day!