By COURTNEY INGLE

Courtney Ingle with her son, Jacob, and daughter, Taylor.

 

     Mama, you are called. 

 

     This Mother’s Day, your family and your church may be celebrating you. Your kids may shower you with extra hugs, a gift, or they may even keep their arguments to a minimum when you pick out where you want to eat. Your pastor may offer a special mention or message for moms during the service, or, like my church, you’ll have a beautiful baby dedication. 

 

     Then, after the day has wrapped up, you’ll have the reminder that tomorrow is another day as you hustle to get everyone wound down for the night. You’ll proceed as usual into your work and school week as if Sunday were just another day. 

 

     But Mama, you are called.

 

     My mom always told me, “Being a mom is the most important job you will ever have.” I watched her live that out as she raised the three of us, and now I have my own two kiddos to raise. 

 

     However, I truly feel that motherhood is so much more than just keeping kids going. That’s a basic requirement. Mama, you are called to be the mother of your child. God saw fit that YOU would have YOUR child.

 

     That calling extends to the unwed mother, the teen momma, the mom of a child with medical issues, and the mama of heavenly babies. If you were to browse any story in the Bible, there is no absence of hardship this side of eternity. Jesus Himself was tempted, grieved and frustrated as He took on the human experience in order to be the ultimate sacrifice. 

 

     It is often said that if something is mentioned more than once in the Bible, pay attention, because it is important. There’s a reason it is repeated. According to the Religious Studies Center at BYU, the word “mother” or its variations is repeated 328 times across the Old and New testaments. 

 

     The woman of Proverbs 31, a mother, is often cited as a beacon of femininity. She toils to care for her family day in and day out, in the home and outside of the home. If we are “just a mom,” then why are our children instructed to “honor thy father and mother”? Why is this the commandment that bears a promise of reward, if motherhood isn’t meant to be respected? 

 

     You were called to mother your children. Whether that’s in the home full time, or as a working mother, or a military mother … Whatever your situation is, you are called to mother your children. This is your charge. From the moment that little test was positive, you had a new mission in life. 

 

     That means, Mom, that God knew your little boy would have developmental issues. 

 

     Indeed, there was already a plan in place when pregnancy wouldn’t happen for you, and you’d have to travel the world to bring home your child. 

 

     That calling extended to me as well. The bulk of the column you’re reading was quickly keyed into the notes section of an iPhone as I waited with my daughter for her checkups at St. Jude Children’s Hospital in Memphis.

 

     We are called to be mothers. We love our children, support them, raise them, advocate for them and stand for them. For most of us, these things come naturally as a primal biological function. It is woven into our DNA. We are called to be mothers. 

 

     This calling isn’t all rainbows and butterflies, either. It is tough. It can be full of anguish, fear and exhaustion. Oh, but it is so worth it. 

 

     Remember the immeasurable value of your calling when your kiddo acts up in church. Hold fast to that calling when you are praying for healing from beside a bed at a children’s hospital. Whatever you face with your child — good or bad — God knew it would happen and He still chose you to be that child’s mother. It won’t always be easy, but it will always be worth it. 

 

     Isaiah 66:13: “As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you.” 

 

Courtney and her husband, Jeremy, live in Brandon and are members at Park Place Baptist Church in Pearl. They have a daughter, Taylor, and a son, Jacob. Courtney is a full-time homemaker and can be reached at courtneyingle89@gmail.com