When a Young Mother

160117_DavidBlocksJanuary 17 – “Mamma! Mamma!’ Our young son David ran into the kitchen where I was making gravy for supper. “See, see!” He pointed excitedly toward the sun porch with his stubby fingers, and flew off again on stocky two-year-old legs. Knowing that I would be right behind him to see his latest accomplishment, he didn’t wait. With hands clasped in front of him and a look of sheer joy on his round face, he beamed even more when I praised him. “Isn’t that a fine house! Did you put those blocks up there all by yourself?? Well, aren’t you a big man!” I gave him a “two-armer” hug and tripped back to the gravy, my work made a little lighter by his “wanting mamma to see.”

And I left him happier because I had taken a few seconds to praise him for what he had done. Back in the kitchen I thought how quickly time had passed since he was born. Being a new mother took time and kept me busy! And two years later, he now had a little sister about two months old that reminded me again of all the joys and smiles, worries and hopes, that a new baby brings.

When I was a church school teacher I heartily agreed that teaching is one of the finest assignments ever given to a man or woman. I had the opportunity of pointing out the way of Jesus to boys and girls in my classroom. As I played baseball and volleyball, “three deep” and “hospital tag” with them during recess time, as I showed them the beauties of nature and drew lessons concerning God’s kingdom, as we studied the Bible together and joined in prayer each day, as we talked over their problems—I was happy in the knowledge that God had given me these children to help show them His way. I was especially thrilled when they gave their hearts to Christ and were baptized. Now that we have our own children, I am sure that being a mother is still more wonderful and satisfying.

During our daily family worship and in our personal prayers before David was born, Dale, and I had asked for wisdom from God in training our child for Him. We did our best to keep a loving, peaceful atmosphere in our home, and Dale’s many ways of expressing his love gave me the sense of security I needed. I tried to be careful to eat the proper food. When I first talked over my diet with the obstetrician, he was adamant on my needing meat. Explaining that I was a vegetarian for reasons of health and that I felt I could get sufficient protein without eating meat, I was finally able to convince him that he should let me prove to him that all would be well.

After the delivery he said to me, `Mrs. Fairchild, you weren’t afraid, were you?” “No.” “And I know why,” he continued.  “Because of your faith in God. You knew that all would be well because He would take care of you. I wish more women would feel that way. And you have a fine baby.”

Looking sleepily at the tiny body in the heated bassinet, I asked the nurse, “May I touch him?” At that moment he seemed to me the most precious thing in the world. Later, after being wheeled out of the delivery room, I saw Dale walking toward me. With David cradled in my arm and Dale’s hand in mine, I felt as regal as any queen. Thankfulness, pride, and joy were mingled in our feelings, along with the knowledge that now a great responsibility was ours.

Once David and I arrived from the hospital, home was never the same. The former husband-wife routine gave way to the life of a family. Never again did we have QUITE the same amount of time for each other, but we have tried to make a rule that part of the day, after the children have been put to bed, was just for us—for talking, playing games, and reading to each other as in the pre-baby days.

When David was three months old, I took him to the doctor for his first shot. “This little boy certainly is a fine specimen,” the doctor remarked. “Have you started him on meat yet?” “No, Dr. Wood,” I answered. “Remember I told you that we are vegetarians?” “Well, just because you have to believe such a silly thing as not eating meat, you don’t have to make a poor innocent child do the same thing!” I laughed, for I had come to know Dr. Wood’s gruff manner (we had discussed diet on previous visits). After finishing the exam he said, “Well, nothing’s wrong with him. When are you going to put him on the football team? He’s a healthy one!”

I opened my mouth to reply, but he didn’t even give me a chance. “And don’t say it’s because he doesn’t eat meat, either!” he growled, with a twinkle in his eye. – CHRIS

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