My mother is a walking Kleenex box. That revelation came to me this morning as I sorted her clothes for washing. Kleenex were liberally sprinkled inside shirts and pant waistbands and even acting as limp shoulder pads. Pockets bulged. As I peered down sleeves, removing rogue Kleenex it occurred to me that my mother is so well padded with tissue that its probably a safety feature. A fragile, little old woman, packed carefully in tissue. Just like a treasure.
I'm not sure when hankies were replaced by Kleenex. I can remember my mother seeing me with startled eyes, as though for the first time just as we were about to enter church.
Out came the hankie.
Up to her mouth it flew.
Spit and scrub.
Spit and scrub.
I find myself wrinkling my face now in recollection.
But it was just something mothers did.
Their specialty.
That hasty once over.
To make us presentable.
Church and outward appearances seem at home in the same sentence, but they are an object lesson of an eternal truth.
When it comes to God, we just have to show up.
We don't have to clean up.
That is His specialty and His delight.
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Perhaps that's what our mothers (and fathers) are supposed to be....there to show us what God does for us if we just come as we are. :-) Sadly, too often, as parents, our motives do not carry the right message. My husband's parents cared more about their own image than for giving the unconditional love that children need.
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