by Doris Aldrich
“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Daddy had been away at meetings for six weekends in a row, and Mommie was all occupied and distracted with the eight children. “What if they had all been twins like Timmie and Virginia?” she asked herself, shuddering at the thought.
And this morning they seemed to be the very worst. They sat like so many lumps, refusing to do a thing to help. Jon did go out to the orchard for the apples Mommie wanted for sauce. But then he sat again.
Mommie set Joe and Timmie to peeling the apples, the weight of their opposition was like a drag on her. Finally they were within seven apples of being finished. “And that’s all I’m doing,” announced Joe flatly. “Me, too,” echoed Timmie, eyeing Mommie to see what she would do. The rest of them lolled in their chairs and gazed at her with quickening interest.
She tried cajoling them; she even made a game of it. She tried to appeal to their better nature—but it was missing. She suggested, she commanded, and then in no uncertain tones she demanded that “those seven apples be peeled immediately and with no dilly-dallying.”
Whereupon Timmie stuck out his lower lip and glowered. Joe whined blubbery tears, asking why Jon and Virginia or some of the others couldn’t do it. “Because I brought them in,” answered Jon loftily, setting himself as an example of industry.
Suddenly enough was enough and Mommie arrived “plumb at the end of her rope.” Standing by the fireplace, she burst into tears, realizing to her surprise that they had been there all unshed for some time. “You’re just a nasty bunch of children!” she declared. “You talk about helping Mommie and you pray so sweetly, but you don’t mean a bit of it!”
With that, she picked up Tad, who was ready to be rocked to sleep for his nap. (Yes, even at 2 years of age.) Slowly she climbed the stairs.
The children, startled by such a scene, swung into action. As one, they lifted themselves from their chairs. Timmie and Joe pared the apples and swept up all the scattered peelings. Jon fixed the neglected fire which had smouldered down to ashes. Virginia and Annette flew upstairs and made all the beds. Jane and Becky did the dishes with clattering speed.
Upstairs in Tim and Tad’s room, Mommie sat and rocked her sleepy boy, comforted by his soft warmth against her.
Reproachingly something seemed to say to her, “You’re a great one, you are, losing your patience that way. And this isn’t the first time either. And you’re the one who can write all those nice little articles about the Lord’s grace being sufficient. And when you speak at meetings they introduce you as ‘such an unusual mother.’ A lot they know. You’re unusual, all right; not many mothers act the way you do, snapping at the children and being so cross. A fine Christian…”
That stinging feeling came again, and then the tears! Mommie sniffed them back, not being able to reach her handkerchief because Taddie was asleep in her arms. His sweet face looked all blurry, and she loved him so! All her babies were dear to her and she felt so ashamed and inadequate. And the little one to come—what kind of a home was he coming into? “We don’t deserve such treasures, Lord. It isn’t right for me to act this way.”
And the Lord seemed right there in that room, in a way so wonderful that Mommie felt she could reach out and touch Him. “Oh beloved Lord, I’m such a failure, not only today, but most of the days.”
It seemed as if He spoke. His Word recalled to mind so clearly: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God” (Isaiah 41:10a).
“I know, Lord, how wonderful Thou art. But knowing that doesn’t seem to stop my failures.”
“I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee” (Isaiah 41:10b).
“But even then, Lord, I fail. I don’t seem to be able to be very triumphant in this everyday round of living. Surely I’m not one of those ‘overcomers.’ I’m mostly overcome!”
And then came the final part of that wonderful verse (and in such tenderness He said it), “Yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness” (Isaiah 41:10c).
Dare it be expressed—the thought of being held close, and upheld by His loving hand? Mommie rocked on, quieted.
How many times the Lord had revealed His gentleness and longsuffering! “Yea, he is altogether lovely” (Song of Solomon 5:16). (Jesus Christ) “Whom having not seen, ye love” (I Peter 1:8).
Settling Taddie in his crib, she went on downstairs to the same children and the same problems, but different now because of the reassuring sense of His presence. “Lo, I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20). And “he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper” (Hebrews 13:5, 6). ■
This story is taken from The Mother/Daughter Mixing Bowl by Doris Coffin Aldrich and Jane Aldrich Franks.
In the 1950s-60s, Doris Coffin Aldrich wrote for a monthly magazine column she titled, “Out of the Mixing Bowl—Musings of Minister’s Wife.” She also served as dean of women at Multnomah School of the Bible, where her husband Dr. Willard Aldrich was president.