. . . and I will be with you always, even until the end of this age. (Matthew 28:20)
Mother’s Day, 2006 was one for the books. It was the last time all three of my kids would be kids at home. It was the year our oldest left for Marine Corps boot camp—and I was anticipating a Mother’s Day to remember.
Through the years, I’ve tried not to make a big deal about Mother’s Day. But even though my husband would be out of town, I was feeling particularly sentimental, knowing that our family would soon be separated.
That morning, I got up early and left for Sunday school. The boys and I were going separately, not unusual, so I anticipated the time I’d have with the three of them surrounding me during our worship service. I entered the sanctuary after my class, scanning the crowd for familiar faces.
I I didn’t spot the boys, but wasn’t too worried, their Sunday school often ran late. I found a pew with plenty of room for all four of us and settled in, saving spots for my handsome young men.
As the service began, I slowly came to grips with the knowledge I’d been stood up—on Mother’s Day! The longer I sat there, the more hurt and indignant I got. How could they neglect their mother on this of all days? I couldn’t concentrate on the service, only on how I’d been wronged. By the time the last hymn was sung, I could hardly wait to get home and give them a piece of my mind.
I pulled into the driveway, primed and ready to let them have it. But when I got out of my car I noticed a pile of rose petals on the ground at my feet. I looked closer and saw they were the beginning of a trail made from bright red and pink petals. The trail led around the back of our house to our screened porch. I immediately began to suspect I’d been much too hasty in my judgment of the situation.
As I followed the petals, I heard laughing and then shushing sounds from the porch. I mounted the stairs, the door swung open and three smiling faces greeted me. They moved aside and let me see what they’d been working on all morning.
Covering the entire back porch were the words, Happy Mother’s Day, We Love You. They were spelled out in a profusion of blossoms and petals. The enclosed space was alive with the scent of roses and a myriad of other flowers I couldn’t name. They’d worked all morning, gathering the fresh blossoms and arranging them into a surprise message.
While I had been feeling neglected and unloved, they’d spent their time crafting a message to show how much they really cared. So often we feel God has neglected and abandoned us, when in reality He’s assembling a special blessing to remind us how much He cares.
