Pondering Motherhood -- The Bishop

This was written by my mom, Helen Fosket 

and first appeared in 

Light and Life magazine in 1978.

You lift him carefully, this wriggling, crying bundle of boy with the homemade curl and the smell of baby powder. Out of the crib, into your arms.

"What will you ever be, anyway?" you ask, cradling him close to you for comfort. "What will you be -- after you have conquered first grade, your fear of dogs, a kite, a rope swing, a trumpet, the football team, student body president, the heart of the prettiest girl in school? Hey, you with the dimple in your top chin, will you be the first man on Mars, a banker, engineer, milkman, carpenter, clown, dropout? Will you be a builder or will you tear down? Let's talk about it."

But he doesn't answer. He just blinks his big blue eyes and chews on his fist. He's chewing on the hand that may someday help change our world!

"You, little one, you with the clean hands and the innocent heart, who has 'not lifted up his soul unto vanity nor sworn deceitfully,'* will your life be one of building, or will you tear down?"

Say, you, mother of the clean hands and the innocent heart, you who will spend so many hours each day with this child of Mine, molding his very life, what will he be? When he leaves your care, will his hand be clenched in greed or will it be open to share his blessings with others? Will you raise him with love and care in preparation for a life with Me, or will he be allowed to make his own choices and 'do his ow thing'? You, wife of your husband, mother of the laundry, the kitchen, the Sunday school class, the choir, the Bible study, the bowling team, the PTA, he can be anything I want him to be; but I need your help.

His diaper is changed, his bottle is warm. You sit holding him tenderly as he drinks. You ponder. A teacher...social worker...coach...minister...missionary...bishop. A bishop? You sit taller.

A bishop...above reproach, one wife, hard worker, kind, hospitable, good Bible teacher, even-tempered, gentle, well-behaved family, not a new Christian.* You shiver with excitement and hold him closer.

"Little one," you ask, "little one of the big burp, would you like to be a bishop some day? You could, you know, for the Lord and I will mold you that way. And then, if He changes His mind and wants you to be president, well bishops make good presidents, too."

His tummy is full. He has fallen asleep. You gently lay him in his crib and rush to the mirror. The reflection shows disheveled hair, a baggy sweat shirt, and a smudge on the left cheek. But it's truly a bishop's mother you see!

A surge of energy comes over you, and you whisper as you leave the room, "Sleep tight, little button nose; the bishop's mother has to finish cleaning the oven."

*from Psalm 24:4 and 1 Timothy 3