Grieving Sons and A Word to Moms

This week I attended the funeral service of a mom of one of my good friends, John. I could feel his grief. This Wednesday I sat with my dear friend Tim as he wept over the dramatic "turn for the worse" in his mother's life. On December 1, I'll mark the third anniversary of my mother's death; an event I cannot give more than a few seconds thought to without filling up with tears.

Three men, all in the 50-60 age range, each weeping with deep affection for his mom. Note that: all in the 50-60 range. These are not boys, not mere children mourning the loss of their tender, affectionate, providing, nurturing, safety assuring moms. These are men who are themselves growing old, who in their advancing years are feeling the profound loss of their mothers. They are in some measure feeling orphaned in their 50's.

I think there is a deep and affecting word here to all moms. Consider this reality: these three men have families of their own; each with good marriages, each with multiple children, a couple with grand-children, each with God-blessed work and ministry, each with dear and cherished friendships. But each mourns the loss of mom with a grief beyond words.

What does this suggest about motherhood? It says that this distinct and noble role is unique in its honor and impact and worth. I cannot prove this for sure, but I'd offer it as a pretty strong theory: of all the griefs of life, the loss of mom would be for most people one of the very greatest griefs there is. I know that many have had moms who were not great moms, and so they may not have grieved much when their moms died. But I would guess that if they did not grieve much when their moms died it was because they had already grieved the loss of their mom much while she was still alive, but living distant and disengaged from their lives. I would suggest that the loss of mom--either through death or through mom's neglect and cruel abuse while still alive--is a grief for which humans shed more tears than perhaps any other.

You see dear mothers: there is simply no one like you. No one. Yours is a calling that is unsurpassed in its impact and worth and dignity. Perhaps this is what Paul meant in 1 Timothy 2:15 when he says that a woman will be saved through child-raising. He obviously does not mean that they will be saved from their sins or justified in God's sight by having and raising kids. What he must mean is something more like: she will be saved from second-rate status or meaninglessness or any sense of inferioirty or some other form of prejudice or dishonor that is all to common in a fallen world--and delivered up into one of the highest callings imaginable. A woman gets to bear and nurture and raise and feed love, nourishment, affection and the never-dying influence of her soul into sons and daughters who will rise up to call her blessed, and weep unmatched tears when she is gone.

There is simply no one like mom. No one. This is not to say that us men have no dignity or that women who are unmarried or are childless (despite their best efforts otherwise) somehow are inferior. No, God has His ways of calling all of us to the bearing and raising of children of another sort--spiritual children whom we give birth to through witness, and nurture through care.

But this is to say, that in a certain way, there is no one like mom. No one.

You moms have a calling that is as sacred as any other, and even more beloved. Never buy into the world's insanity that defames motherhood or denigrates the bearing and raising of children. The high-powered female CEO who chooses career over children may make lots of money and wield lots of power, but she will have no one like Tim or John or me who will mourn her passing with the tears of a child.

The CEO may move companies, but mom moves hearts. Tell me which is of greater worth.

There is simply no one like mom. Not one.