After The Work

There are mothers who excel at raising their children, loving them and granting them every opportunity at their disposal. Commendable, honorable, nurturers, making their families proud. Then there are those to do all of that and feel called to nurture all of those who wander into her life. Often moms in circumstances that are not privileged, aiding those who find themselves without anyone to watch over them. Were not for their ever expanding love, these people would not know a mother’s love.

Many are foster moms, doing so formally and loving those lost in the system. These are not the type who get kids for their benefits, but seek to benefit the child. They love the wild, lost, and afraid in our midst. Others find themselves loving those the system has not found yet. Often friends of their children, they take them into their home, sometimes for an afternoon meal, sometimes for the weekend, even sheltering them until it is safe for them to return home. Other times they are auntie, loving them while their mom gets back on track.

These moms serve to provide a picture of normal life, love, and someone who doesn’t want anything from them. Someone who will listen, feed, and hug those lost to the world. They pray for them, help them seek a job or school, encourage them and mirror to them what makes them special.

This leads me to such a mom we will call Terri. She’s 90 now and knows her time on earth is coming to a close. She sees those lost to time, those who have passed on long ago. She reflects on her own mom, her lost child who died years ago, and prays for her children’s friends from long ago she touched, protected and sheltered. One such “child”, now in her 50’s, she prays for everyday.

She calls her Peaches, adorable gal, daughter of a hippie, so she says. Used to dance for the Tribe, now has wandered far into the night. Her mom struggled with many an issue, so she would hang out at her friends mom’s house when she was young. She would play under the table while her “mom” had bible study or met with other elders of the tribe.

Over time, she struggled with her own vices. She ran with people who were familiar with violence. Peaches would wander over to her house late at night when she was scared. She knew no one knew about her surrogate mom. She protected her “mom” and didn’t bring the wrong people over, only safe people were with her when she visited.

Eventually she grew older and came around less and less. She still found her way over for a meal, a prayer, and rest. She would sleep under the same table with a blanket she used to play under. It was safe and reminded her of good times. Terri would offer her the couch, but she would decline. Sometimes Peaches came over in terrible shape from addiction or violence. Terri would shower her like when she was a kid, tend to her wounds, and administer aid when she was going through withdrawal.

Terri would mom many in her community, working with addicts as a nurse to help them safely get off drugs and alcohol. She eventually helped many a person she knew from her children and grandchildren. She watched what drugs and alcohol did to her people. She would weep over them in private moments and plead to God for aid and mercy. She watched them come and go into the darkness and desperation. She also marveled at others who got sober and watched their lives transform, rejoicing with them as they got jobs, families, and homes.

TodayTerri is surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, some passed on, others visiting her with hugs and thanks as the community hears she is on hospice. She forgets more and more each day like what her keys are for, or if she ate lunch already. She never, ever forgets a youth, however, a great mercy of God, testimony of her love and devotion to them. She maintains a long list of people she prays for by name everyday. They are ever on her mind, always around her, memories comforting her as she journeys to God.

Terri saw Peaches recently and let her sleep at her elders apartment for a few days. Life hasn’t been kind to Peaches and she held Terri for hours in silence. Terri simply stroked her hair like she was a child, allowed her to bathe and eat, and get rest on her couch as the old familiar table was gone, yet memories and love remain. Terri didn’t think to ask her to stay to help her as she declines then, overcome with caring for her as if she was 60 again. She was amazed her 90 year old joints didn’t ache and her back was pain free while Peaches was there. She loved having purpose again one last time.

We prayed for Peaches to come back. She had no phone, didn’t know who she was staying with out there in the woods. She was like a fawn who returned to the home that was kind to her and tended to her wounds, only to wander back into the merciless wild. Maybe Peaches will come back, Terri would offer her a job to help her as a caregiver. Maybe its risky to have her there, especially with hospice medications present. They would have to be locked away. Terri doesn’t care for herself, she may be 90, but her love for the lost kids burns like an inferno in the forest.

Such is the love for those community moms. They are the most valued treasure in our communities, far greater worth than gold or bitcoin. They heal the wounds in our families and communities, offer shade to the lost. They are Jesus to those people, true beacons of light and love. They are fearless feeders of hungry bellies who need a safe place to be. They are fiercely defended an protected on the streets. Even when they are harmed, they are quick to forgive, offering understanding and unconditional love. If your mom was one of these, you are a privileged person having an angel in your midst. I hope you know one of these moms because your life will be better for it!