The Power of a Mother’s Love

Mother’s Day is approaching.  I was impacked by a video I watched this morning.  A mother had given birth to twins, a boy and a girl prematurely.  There is always a risk a baby will not make it when born prematurely.  This was so with the little boy.  The doctor gave the “dead” baby into the mothers arms and left her alone with her husband.  The mother laid the baby on her heart, the father put his arms around him keeping him warm with their body heat.  The mother spoke to her baby and told him how much he was loved and about all his extended family that he belonged to.  She continued speaking lovingly and tenderly.  The baby began to breathe and move.  The doctor said “No, he is dead.”  But the little boy lived and is now a healthy five year old.  There was life in the words the mother spoke over her lifeless child.  God is love and as we show love and speak love it brings life.  This speaks to me of a saying that love is stronger than death.

Love is expressed through touch.  When a baby is born he has to go through the squeeze to be born, comes from a cosy, warm place into a cooler room and has to gasp for breath?  Surely it must be stressed, poor thing.  My daughter is an Obstetrician surgeon.  He helps some mothers give birth.  Her hands are the first hands that hold those new borns.  She speaks life over the mother and baby.  Another daughter is a Mid Wife sister.  Her hands too are the first that hold many newly born babies.  

There is a song that goes “Love lifted me” by Kenny Rodgers.  I think of it today.

When my husband and family learned I had cancer their love lifted me and helped me heal and live.  Others showed their love by visiting me and bringing gifts.
Mother Teresa lifted people who were dying from the gutter.  She and her nurses held them and comforted them.  Many widows and widowers enjoy going to the hairdresser.  The hairdresser’s hands may be the only ones that touch them all week.  When a marriage breaks down or one is bereaved the one thing people have told me is they miss being touched.

We make a promise “To have and to hold from this day forward, till death do us part.”  When I made those vows I did not know how important having someone to hold was.  The love between a couple grows into holding a child.  Love grows and brings life and increase.  

Jesus said, “they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.” (‭Mark‬ ‭16‬:‭18‬ NIV)

Holding someone who is sick brings comfort and love and makes them better.  The power of God is in love and touch.  Nurses do a great job.  When I was in hospital, having children, with a broken arm or with cancer the nurses comforted me, reassured me and drove away my fears.

Family Friday. My Six Boys Get Their Hair Cut.

I was reading an article today in a magazine.  It’s title was “Self reliance tips that will save you money.”  Number 11 on the list was the following.
“Cut your family members’ hair yourself.  A quality set of clippers costs less than 50 dollars.”

This article jogged my memory.  Twenty years ago I had six young boys ranging from the age of ten to three.  I would take them to the barbers to get their hair cut.  I would usually go on a Saturday morning.  They were off school. The barbers waiting room would be filled with other mothers with their boys or workmen who only had Saturday off.

It didn’t take long for each child’s hair to be cut but I had to get six children seen to.  That would take about forty five minutes all together.  I had to keep the others quiet in a confined space for that time. They got impatient by the time the last one was finished.  They would take turns climbing on my knee.  One asked “Mummy when can we go home?”  “Mummy I’m hungry.”  “Mummy, I’ve to go to the toilet.”  ” Mummy he hit me.”  “Mummy I don’t  want my hair cut. I want to leave it the way it is.” By the time everyone had their hair cut, I was frazzled.

I let their hair grow as long as was reasonable till I would visit the barber again.  I thought of a way to avoid the stress of having to go to the barber again.  It wasn’t because of what it cost but it was to avoid the long wait.

I knew a lady who worked in a training centre, teaching young students hairdressing.  I took my boys there.  I watched closely how she did her job.  She used an electric hair cutter with graded combs.  Number one was for the sides and number three was for the top.  Then she trimmed the fringe with a pair of scissors.

I thought to myself “I will try cutting my children’s hair myself.”  I bought a set of hair clippers and a pair of hairdresser’s scissors.   I learned quickly to use the machine.  The boys didn’t mind me cutting their hair.  I think I did a good job.  They looked well with their neatly trimmed hair styles.  I said to my husband,  “Think of the money I am saving us by cutting our children’s hair.”

When it was time to return to school in September all my children looked fresh in their uniforms and their neatly trimmed hair.  I was proud of them.  They looked healthy with their tanned or fleckled skin after the outdoor life they enjoyed all summer.

I even trimmed my daughters’ hair.  They had long hair so it was a matter of cutting the hair when it was wet, in a straight line across the back. As the boys got older they helped cut each other’s hair with the clippers.  The girls wanted to try different styles so they went to the hairdressers.  I am thankful they didn’t change their hair colour by bleaching it!

I got confident enough in my hairdressing skills to offer to cut my husband’s hair.  He agreed.  Brendan was sitting down and I was about to start when a friend arrived.  He was as bald as a coot.  He said to my husband “If I had a head of hair like you I wouldn’t let anyone do an amateur job!”  Any idea of cutting my husband’s hair evaporated.

A Little Tender Loving Care

I needed to visit my hairdresser badly.  I had my left arm in a cast and could not drive so I was dependant on my son or husband taking me into town.  I had put off going but there comes a time when a girl knows she needs to visit the hairdresser.

I made the appointment and my son left me off. This was the first time I was in town since I broke my wrist. I looked at my left hand.  It had been pulled and bruised in order to set my bone in my wrist.  My thumb and four fingers were protruding just a few inches out of the cast.  I decided they needed a little tender loving care.  I made an appointment in a beauty saloon nearby to have a manicure.

When I visit Rosaleen, my hairdresser, I catch up on how her children are doing and how she is coping as a single mum with four teenage boys.  Very often she talks away, the scissors keep snipping and before we know I have a shorter haircut than I had planned. Does that happen to you?

I think hairdressers have an important job.  They are counsellors and comforters.  Very often they are the only people some pensioners meet in the week.  Getting one’s hair washed is soothing.  They know all the news in the community.  They tell you how well you look.  It is a lot cheaper going to Rosaleen than going to a therapist.

Rosaleen was one of the first people I told I had cancer.  She kept me looking beautiful through the weeks of my treatment and was always caring.  The saloon would be all abuzz when I came in and told them I was healed of cancer.  Rosaleen has read my book and passes it onto her customers.  I enjoyed my beauty treatment at the hairdressers, so on to my next stop the manicurist.

I had not told my husband I was going to have a manicure.  I thought everyone is okay at home and will get on with whatever they are doing while mum is down town,  the first in a long while.  I thought I would treat myself and get a little pampered after the trauma of suffering a broken wrist.

I was not taken immediately for my appointment.  My mobile phone kept making noises telling me it was out of battery, so I turned it off.

Eventually Michelle invited me to get my nails done.  She was soft spoken. She massaged my hands.  She applied the nail polish and chatted.  One hand had to dry under the heated box, while she finished the other hand.  I was put at ease and was very relaxed. I did not notice the time passing.  I thought Michele would be finished soon.  No, she started the whole process all over again.

Another assistant came in and offered to paint my toenails.  I had not time to refuse.  In my mind I thought time is going on.  Maybe this is taking too long.

Bronagh knelt down at my feet and proceeded to wipe them.  Whooa.  This has not happened to me before.  I continued to enjoy all this attention.  I could not get a quick get away now.

I had lost all tract of time.  Perhaps Brendan will be wondering where I am.  I checked my mobile phone when I was finished at the nail parlour.  Sure enough Brendan had been trying to get in touch.  I called him.  I had completely forgotten that we had to have our passport photos signed by an official in order to get them sent off in the post that day.  Brendan had tried to contact a few people who could have signed them but they were not available.  He could not get in touch with me either!  It was now five o’clock and the post went at five thirty.  The pressure was on.  Those passport applications had to be in the post that evening.  I said a quick prayer. Help Lord.

I suggested Brendan and I meet at the police station and an officer there could sign them.  We met there, got the photos signed and rushed to the post office before closing.  We made it.  I am so glad we did.  I did not let on to anyone I was in another world for an hour when all my cares had blown away.  I got a quick wakeup call back to reality.   I did not care if the nail varnish was all smudged.  I smiled to myself. Thank you Lord for getting to the post on time.

Angela