Calling myself on our landline isn’t normal routine around here. But this day, Mother’s Day, I wanted to make sure the phone was working properly. It was. I heard the words, “Testing…testing…testing” echo loud and clear.
Hope is a funny thing. It brings life in times of trouble, yet one still protects the heart just enough…just in case. I suppose that was the case today. I hoped beyond all hope all six would call. Yet, I knew there was a chance this might not be the case.
It was a good day, yet the heaviness in my heart weighed in as there was no not a sixth call at all.
“Thank goodness it’s only one day out of the year!” These words spoken from my friend who knew my pain validated, and they matched the chords of my broken heart strings.
Later that evening, my husband walked beside me down the gravel road. The stones crunched quietly beneath our shoes as light chit-chat ensued. He knew.
We turned our attention to the field off to our left. “I wonder what they’ll plant this year?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s already been seeded,” he spoke.
“How can that be? Some of the husks of corn are still in the field and the field hasn’t even been tilled yet,” I countered.
“It was planted last fall,” he stated.
“Oh,” was all I could muster as we walked on.
Monday came. The heaviness continued to spill over into my thoughts. Tuesday felt much the same and by Wednesday the lingering effect upon my heart felt like freshly tilled soil. A peace settled in as I prayed without ceasing.
Towards evening of the third day, the mail was brought in and as he walked through the door, he looked up while handing me one pink envelope.
Could it be? Out popped a beautiful card and a note which simply said, “Happy Mother’s Day. Love…”
Like new growth bursting through the soil from seeds planted seasons ago, hope renewed itself right there at the kitchen counter.
“Jesus I trust in You” takes on many a form these days and although I do not know what tomorrow holds, I know Who holds tomorrow. It’s not exactly a new saying but when one must put it on and wear faith, it’s new every morning.
“I thirst,” is what Mother Teresa wrote upon the walls of each convent founded. She explains that when Jesus was on that cross and said, “I thirst,” what He was and still is thirsting for is us to receive the love He desires to pour out. He died and rose for us and He longs for us to receive all He has to give.
And so it goes with mamas. We desire our love be received when poured out. Every so oft…ever so soft…He allows us to know that not only is the tilling of the soil all His but the fruit of what He longs to produce within each. In this my hope. Amen.
Kathleen Kjolhaug lives on the family homestead outside of Clearbrook with her husband Pete. She enjoys writing about family life and brings humor into the sacred moments of everyday living.
Theology in the Trenches appears in several local newspapers throughout Minnesota. Kathleen can be reached by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org