Happy Mother's Day
Saturday Story
“Saturday Stories” started as a bonus for paid subscribers. Since I removed any requirement for a paid subscription for anything I publish, everyone receives the Saturday Stories. These are random tales from life. I usually try to tie it to some larger life lesson. But not always. I hope you find them enjoyable. To those of you who are paid subscribers, thank you for your support. If you are not a paid subscriber, I am grateful you are here as well, and my prayer is always that something I write will be of help and encouragement in your life. If you want to help by becoming a paid subscriber, I will do my best to honor your support by being a good steward of everything God provides.
Happy Mother’s Day
When I was a boy, our family lived for a brief time in Bennett, Colorado. If you’ve ever traveled to Colorado, you probably passed right by Bennett. It is east of Denver on I-70. It’s a small town that was even smaller back in 1968. If you ever wander into Bennett and see the old Volunteer Fire Department building, the house next door is where we lived.
Although we only lived there for a short time, I have a lot of great memories from those days. My siblings and I wandered around town a lot. These black metal straps were lying on the ground down by the railroad tracks that someone taught us how to bend and shape in a way that you could turn into whistles. I got my first bike for my birthday when we lived there. A metallic green Schwinn. I learned to ride it on the streets of Bennett.
There was one little store in town where you could buy some groceries and other sundry items. We would collect pop bottles and cash them in there for some candy when we could. Mom’s birthday is in September. So, that September, before winter set in, while there were still pop bottles to be found, my siblings and I came up with a plan. We were going to buy Mom something for her birthday with bottle money.
We worked hard at it and managed to put together what we considered quite a haul of bottles and headed off down to the store. We handed over our bottles, got our money, and set out to find the perfect gift for Mom.
What we settled on, after we did the calculations and considered the available options, was a mop and an ice cream scoop. Looking back, we realize those weren’t the greatest gifts to present to a mother of four young children. But at the time we thought we were doing something great.
Mom, to the best of my recollection, never showed any hint of disappointment when we handed her our gift. Instead, she showed gratitude and happiness. It was years later that we realized a mop and an ice cream scoop weren’t the greatest gifts a kid could give their mother. But we didn’t learn that from Mom. She never said that. And I don’t think she ever has, even when we bring it up and reminisce about it. She just laughs. Not at us, but with us.
I think there is a lesson in there about God. There’s nothing I can give Him that is above mop and ice cream scoop status. He is, after all, God. I’m not enriching Him by anything I present to Him. With a broader and more mature perspective, I would realize how small most of my gifts are. Nevertheless, He receives what I give because He perceives the motive and love behind the giving.
