I was raised in a dysfunctional household with three siblings and both my parents. However, my story, thus far, has a happy ending.
I was abused. By whom I had been abused no longer matters, for I have received healing through forgiveness. Yet, it was the love of a mother who taught me to fear the Lord.
My mother and I had always been close. She loved me through simple acts of kindness and service, and she instructed and disciplined me in the ways of the Lord. Upon reaching the age of a teenager, I went astray, like a prodigal. I sought this world with an incurable thirst and forsook God for useless idols. But my mother remained steadfast in her love, acting without ceasing with the love of God as our rolemodel.
Through the love of a mother, the hardened hearts in our household became soft. Through simple acts of kindness and generous service, the dysfunction ceased. And as I watched God’s love grow in her through sanctification, I slowly rejected my lifestyle and returned to the Lord with zeal and passion.
The love of God, demonstrated through my mother, healed my heart patiently as I observed the ways of a woman who strongly feared and followed the Lord. And my family began to follow her, becoming softened and gentle.
A mother’s actions, even the most minor, do not go unnoticed. And I am grateful for who my mother is and how far God has carried her.