Mama made the difference…

I was reading before I went to bed tonight as I often do and I decided to pick up a book I recently ordered which is Bishop T.D. Jakes' new book “Mama made the Difference.” Mind you at this time I am reading several other books, (Yes all at the same time) right now because I am trying to occupy my mind. Reading has always been my thing. It was the one thing I have forever been able to depend on. When I had no one or nothing I would always find myself in a public library checking out books if I had no money to buy them. Ever since I latched on to Amazon.com, Half.com and resale book shops I have been able to afford to feed and nurture my love of books. I derive such pleasure from buying a new one or getting one in the mail. But the whole book thing is another post.

In the first chapter of this book, Bishop Jakes discusses how his mother taught him how to believe in G-d. At the end of the chapter he asks how our mothers taught us to believe in G-d and there is a prayer. Now my mother and I have a very strained relationship. I love her and I believe that somewhere in her she loves me. It may not be what I need it to be now or what I needed as a child but I think that she still loves me. I realized of late that it is not that I don’t forgive her for all of her mistakes or even understand that surely it was not her desire to make those that she did, it’s just that my heart has been severely affected by them. Her continuous mistreatment of me even as an adult now, keeps me and her at very far arms length. She believes everyone but me, hooks up with people who do not like me and truly just treats me as if I am the dumbest person walking the earth. Believe me, I wish that I was exaggerating. I have forgiven her, but forgiveness does not mean that I have to allow her back in my space nor put myself in her path to hurt me again.

With that said, I was totally prepared to answer that question at the end of the first chapter by saying that she never taught me about G-d as a child. She never took me to church or prayed with me or over me--to my knowledge. But Father reminded me that I was wrong.

You see, it was her that taught me to believe in G-d. In her periods of abandonment of me someone else was allowed to send me to summer day camp where the Catholic nuns gave me pictures of Jesus and sang songs about G-d. In her mistreatment of me, it was him that I learned to cry to and talk to. It was she that kept me on my knees to him as a child desiring that he would help me. It was her that taught me that if I had no one else, I had him. That was her way of teaching me about G-d. She may not ever know it or realize it, but she gave me the greatest gift possible in all of that mess.

To go even further, it was her that taught me to be the voracious reader that I am, to treat my kids differently. To hug them a little tighter. To tell them constantly that they are loved, wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, and destined for more than they can even begin to imagine. What looked like a curse, really isn’t. The enemy wants me to believe that it is. But in that is the paradox of the blessing. Now I know how Joseph felt and what he meant in Genesis 50:20 when he said But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive.

Whole generations have been affected by my love for G-d and my all consuming desire to serve him. So when it comes down to it, My mama truly did make the difference. And I would not change a thing.

If you don’t have the book or have read it already, get it--as I have skipped through and looked at others chapters and I know that neither I, nor you will be disappointed with it.

Be Blessed.
Chosen.