Mother Hen

Once a week, my 97-year-old mother gets a full shower, her hair washed and set, and her nails trimmed and filed. Sometimes we polish her fingernails. When I give her a choice of color she always chooses a light pink almost pearl color.

I can remember as preteen girls, my sisters and I would polish her nails. We curled her hair, even cut it, and gave her permanents. When we were young we believed our mother was the prettiest mother there ever was, but as we grew up into our teen years, our mother seemed old-fashioned and behind the times.

I got married, moved about 100 miles away, and settled into work, but I still felt so attached to my mother and family that I came home to Vinita almost every two weeks. I didn’t care what it cost to drive home. The town we had moved to never became home.

After my first child was born, I continued to return to Vinita bringing him to visit my mother and mother-in-law. When he was sick, I called Mother and she’d catch the bus down to help me take care of him. When I was divorced and moved back to Vinita, I moved my mobile home next door to Mother to live, and once again, she was the one who helped me with everything.

Mother and I have had our ups and down, probably because we are both stubborn and mule-headed, but I learned as I matured that my mother was truly my best friend even during those times we butted heads.

Jesus stood looking out over Jerusalem. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood [chicks] under her wings, but you were not willing.” Luke 13:35 NKJV

Jesus, our Savior, our Lord, our Master, our Healer, and yes, even our mother hen who watches over her little children, gathering them under wings of love to protect us in troubled times.