If March was a Mother
a story from spring
Writing with Jesus is a reader-supported publication where laughter is found, tears are shed, and faith is made steadfast. Writings on wrestling with God, motherhood, and some comedy to lighten the mood.
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If March was a mother, she’d be arranging a vase of tulips on the kitchen table, a jar of honey and a pile of fresh-picked tangerines beside her waiting to be placed into a bowl. She’d look at you from time to time, her wispy untamable hairs loose around her face, and give you a little smile.
“Would you like some coffee, love?” She’d say, already preparing a mug, the one with little painted flowers around it.
“Yes please.”
“I brought some ingredients to cook dinner later,” she’d announce, lifting her shoulders up by her ears and grinning with both her lips and her eyes, like she’d been holding onto the sweetest secret surprise.
You’d stroll into the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the windows, and in an old basket you’d see a bottle of olive oil, pasta, a loaf of home-baked bread, and tomatoes and parsley from the garden. You’d thank her, deeply, and she’d come over, a hot coffee in hand, and kiss the side of your face, “Of course, baby. I love you,” she’d say, quick and nonchalant, like a common fact she has said a million times and wouldn’t mind saying a million more.
“Mom, I haven’t heard from the Lord lately. He’s so silent these days. He feels so far,” you’d say, an air of sadness in your voice.
“I’m sorry, baby. I know it’s easy to feel as though He cares less for us when that happens.”
“It really does.”
“Jesus loves you so much. Don’t you forget it.”
“Then why isn’t He speaking to me?”
“He’s always speaking to us, sweetheart. And He is always near. Sometimes we just forget how to listen, how to pay attention. How about instead of waiting for God to tell you what you want to hear, you allow yourself to just be romanced by the stories in this here book,” she’d say holding up the Bible from the coffee table, “Go sit outside and listen to the sounds of the earth that the Lord made just for us to enjoy. Look up at the blue sky and gaze at the color God chose just for us to see. Feel the breeze that He made just for us to dwell in. Think about the home that you live in, the roof over your head and a meal on the way and come back and tell me the Lord is far away.”
She’d light a candle on the coffee table, sit on the couch, and pat the spot beside her.
“Come here, sweetheart. I’ll read a little to you.”
You’d curl up next to her, pull the blanket over your legs, and settle in just as you did when you were a child. And flipping through the pages she’d stop where she saw fit and begin to read,
“In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the wilderness of Judea and saying, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’ This is he who was spoken of through the prophet Isaiah: A voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.’ John’s clothes were made of camel’s hair, and he had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey…”
Katie Donohue Tona
Disclaimer: There have been some folks who have thought that these are real, true-life conversations that I’ve had with my own mother. This monthly series is a work of fiction, prayerfully written in hopes that it either inspires mamas like myself to be godly women in motherhood or is a comfort to those who do not have mothers, do not have Christ-following mothers to ask questions to or be loved by, or those who have lost their own mothers from death, dementia, or some other means. And as always, thank you for reading and being here!
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If march was a mother... she would be just as much a gift from God as any other mother! thank you for this post :)
LOVE☺️😍