We were in a quaint little chapel listening to a beautiful teaching about suffering and where God is at such times. I had never seen more relevance between those words and the audience as I saw it today. The room was small, the congregants few. Most were in wheelchairs, some falling asleep from medication they were taking or the result of going through stroke recovery or just sleepless nights that come from endless interruptions by nurses in the middle of the night. The pastor with his heavy middle eastern accent cried as he spoke about God’s love and how He never leaves us. It was obvious to me that he was very good at comforting the sick.
As he continued the service, he got ready to serve communion. Our family’s presence had been unexpected. We had brought the number of attendance to a whopping 20 people instead of the 10 that it would have been if we had not shown up. He looked up and said, mostly to our family, “In my 15 years of working at this facility, this is the most people I have had in a service. I apologize if I do not have enough to go around.”
I was instantly humbled and brought to tears. Here was this pastor with an obvious love of people and a wonderful gift of teaching and he had chosen to work in a place where for the last 15 years he did not serve the masses, but the few. He was touching lives one by one as they recovered and went back home never to return. Some could hear his words of encouragement, some could not. Most probably didn’t even know his name. To the rest of the world, he was invisible. But to heaven, his work is transcendent. The world will never know how good he is at what he does, but that’s OK. His message is not for them.
This got me thinking about a mom’s job. In a world where we equate success with popularity and fame, the job of a mom seems insignificant and pointless. There is no fame, there is no recognition. Some of mom’s words even seem to land on deaf ears. Yet she continues. She instructs. She loves. She teaches. She disciplines. Those kids will grow up, move out, live their lives. There will be visits, but healthy kids move out. That was the goal. Like the pastor who is there for the sick but hopes they get well and leave, a mom who loves her children works her way out of a job.
That pastor will never know this side of heaven how significant his contribution was to those who most needed him when they needed him the most. Moms, you will never know this side of heaven the impact you have had on the little ones in your household. Those who most need you when they need you the most. You might be invisible to the world, but to heaven, your contribution is transcendent. The world may never know how good you are at what you do, but that’s OK. Your message is not for them. It’s for your kids. It’s for God.