My Mother

My mother was a simple woman. If she appeared, she would be visible to her viewer as a mere face. Everything else belongs to her. A decent dress. A scarf always covering her head. This is the way she was, in summer and winter, at home and outside. With no rhetoric of her own, she was closely related to the Apostle’s teaching about “the hidden person of the heart… the beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit (1 Peter 3:4). She believed that the Lord is our companion in all circumstances, minute by minute. If she went out of the house, she looked as though she was walking close to a God she was “seeing at her right hand”. In her appearance; in her looks; in her words; in everything; my mother was pure with deep convictions that are understood by the simple people like her or by those who read the rhetoric in a scene. I know, from her, that what she was like was because of her upbringing. We are all responsible for cultivating in our children the conviction of the Word.