Hand-Made Love (Reflections on Easter 4, Year C and Mother's Day)

“I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.” (John 10:28)

I have to admit it: my mom was a quirky old gal. She was pretty much an introvert, she didn’t like crowds or small talk, and she was infuriatingly perfectionist. Her most notable hobby was the creation of intricate, highly-detailed accessories for Victorian doll houses. She didn’t care at all about the dolls, but she was possessed with an almost compulsive fascination with reducing straw brooms, dust mops, rug-beaters, and decorative peacock feathers to inch-to-foot scale. She would sit up long hours into the night at our dining room table, smoking enumerable cigarettes, painstakingly creating these tiny household items.

Mother sold her miniatures at craft and hobby shows. She was once written up in a national miniature-lovers’ magazine, and even had the thrill of receiving an order for her minute peacock feathers (hand-painted on duck feathers collected from our local  pond) from a doll house enthusiast in the United Kingdom who had read about her exquisite creations.

Unfortunately, Mother was a creative artist but not an entrepreneur. She never knew how to promote or market her work, and boxes of minuscule wonders survived her. Nevertheless, when friends or neighbors beheld a tiny express wagon, dust pan, claw-foot table, or crocheted antimacassar, they would be struck dumb with awe and admiration for my mother’s imagination and talent.

It’s natural that I should think of my mom on Mather’s Day, but the First Lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary (Acts 9:36-43) always puts me in mind of her. In this story, Peter raises Dorcas from the dead. I guess the lesson is meant to be that Peter now has the faith to do that which Jesus had done. The story gets married to the Gospel lesson (John 10:22-30) which reminds us that nothing can take us out of the hands of our Good Shepherd—not even death. But what has always touched me about this tale is the fact that Peter—who doesn’t know Dorcas from Eve—is introduced to her by the other widows who show him all the cool stuff she’s made (Acts 9:39).

There’s something to be said for the work made by hand. My mother lives on through her doll house miniatures. My late sister lives on through one of her paintings on my office wall and the Pentecost stole she and her twin sister created for my ordination mass. How many of us have scarves or sweaters knitted by our mother or a doting grandmother? Dorcas is known by the work of her hands. And, what’s also cool, is that work is appreciated and celebrated by the widows she hung out with. I guess Dorcas herself must’ve been getting on in years and was probably a widow herself. Her husband may have died, but she found a new family in the community of saints at Joppa.

My mom was also a widow. After my father’s death, she lived alone in a house too large for her to care for given that she suffered from emphysema and severe COPD. My sisters and I took turns caring for her, but, as we all married and had our own lives to deal with, Mother suddenly found herself in a “flock” of other widows from our Lutheran church. If she was in need of a ride to the doctor’s office or required something from the store, an elderly Lutheran lady would appear to take care of her. “I never realized I had so many friends,” she once said.

Mother referred to the platoon of church ladies as her “Guardian Angels.” She even ordered several angel lapel pins from a catalogue to present to them as a token of her gratitude. Our pastor noted that the Guardian Angels probably needed my mother as much as my mother needed them. Caring for her gave them dignified purpose in their older-but-still-useful age. Mother’s final request to these faithful women was that they help her memorize the 23^rd Psalm. Indeed, in the company of such disciples, goodness and mercy followed my mother to the end of her life.

I have sometimes been asked to teach a Daily Life of a Christian course for my synod’s Diakonia program. At some point I ask the students to name the single most important Christian witness in their lives. Almost invariably they answer “my mother.” Moms (and dads, too) have the tough job of providing for us, teaching us, encouraging us, and protecting us. They are called upon to be, in their own way, shepherds.

I am grateful to have had the parents I had. For all of their issues—and they certainly had some—they brought me up to be part of the flock. They brought me into Christian community where I saw love and compassion put into practice. We are called to be one flock, one family. to care for each other in time of need, to be supportive, to create the loving community that can only be created out of confidence in the forgiving and renewing goodness of God.

A Happy Mother’s Day to all. God bless, and thanks again for looking me up