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Summary: A sermon for Mother’s Day using the story of the biblical midwives (Jochebed and Miriam) to illustrate the importance of parents and caregivers. A generational look at God’s plan.

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Mother’s Day Sermon

May 12, 2024

via: Catharine Rhodes

Main teaching: Exodus 2:2-10 (Moses’ birth)

Memory verses: Matthew 18:3, 1 Timothy 3:4,

Themes: motherhood, caring for children, segregation, equality, faith, hard work.

30-35 minutes.

Good morning, everyone.

Happy Sunday, Happy Mother’s Day Weekend.

I'm truly grateful for the opportunity to share with you today, especially as a mother of four children myself.

Through the years, I've come to appreciate the unique joys and challenges that come with being a mom, and a childcare provider. God blessed me with four beautiful children who loved making friends. Our house was always full of people, and after a while, we just stopped counting them. At least until dinnertime. When we had to count the plates, and make sure we had enough chicken legs for everyone!

I have had the incredible privilege to serve in Sunday schools and to work with at-risk youth and their families. The opportunity brought me immense joy and fulfillment. Witnessing the positive impact of providing support, guidance, and hope to individuals facing challenging circumstances has filled me with hope and love myself.

Connecting with these individuals on a personal level, understanding their struggles, and walking alongside them on their journey toward healing and transformation has been deeply rewarding. Being able to offer a listening ear, a helping hand, and a message of love and acceptance has allowed me to witness firsthand the resilience and strength of the human spirit. Knowing that I have played a part, no matter how small, in empowering these individuals to overcome adversity and build brighter futures fills me with a sense of fulfillment that words cannot fully capture.

But it wasn’t always like that. I wasn’t always able to see the joy in this work. Of being … mom. Of being a caregiver. When my first child was born, 24 years ago, I had no idea what to do.

I’ll never forget the way I felt when he was born. I don’t think that ever leaves a mom. The doctor handed me this tiny little person, with perfect little miniature fingers and toes, all bundled up in a blanket. He looked into my eyes, and he was a blank slate of love, hope, and trust.

I understood what God meant when he said, “Become like a little child” (Matthew 18:3) Have all the love, and trust, and faith in others that a small child does. And hope they do right by you. And work to do right by them.

I wanted to be the best mom who ever lived but, I didn’t even know which way a diaper went on. Those nurses at the hospital seemed so sure of themselves. They just performed this magic act, juggling babies up in the air and wrapping them in blankets and plugging soothers and bottles into their mouths like a 1960’s phone operator. My first year as a first time mother was comparatively -and factually- inadequate.

Miracles take hard work. You pray for it and pray for it and when you get it…that’s when the work begins.

There were moments when I didn’t feel up to the task at all. One was August, 2000. It was hot outside, and I wasn’t feeling well. I wasn’t producing enough milk for my baby, so I had to feed him one bottle a day. I went to the store, and I accidentally bought the wrong kind of formula. I used ready to serve formula, you just pop the top and pour it into the bottle. I accidentally bought liquid concentrate, which you have to mix with water.

While I was feeding him my baby started screaming. He turned red in the face. I sat him up, trying to console him, and he threw up all over me. And then he threw up all over the carpet. And the wall. It didn’t stop, and I took him to the hospital.

I had been handed this beautiful, perfect, healthy child. This absolute miracle and…a few short weeks into his life, I had already made a mistake. I felt undeserving. I felt like God must have called the wrong number.

He’s fine, by the way. He’s 24. He’s healthy.

They all are. My kids are 24, 20, 16, and 14 and can’t recall their baby days, but I can. Every smile, every lost tooth, every first step. They are all engraved on my heart.

Mom. Who is she. What does mom, mean?

At some point every one of us, whether or not we remember, was helpless in the arms of someone who chose to take on the role of mother. Someone who kept us warm, and fed us, and held us so that we’d always feel loved, supported, and safe.

It was the first time.

But it won’t be the last.

Mom. Wow.

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