C180 5/10/59
© Project Winsome International, 2000

FROM BRIDE'S BOUQUET TO GRAND BABY'S BOTTLE
Dr. John Allan Lavender
Lk. 1:30-31, 46-47; 2:7a

See Page 16 for Instruction!

One of the most thrilling, gratifying, uplifting things about marriage is the knowledge that through an expression of their love for each other, a man and woman may become partners with God in the creation of new life.

I'm sure every mother and father here this morning can remember that hallowed moment when they first looked down upon a tiny bit of squirming humanity and realized this was a special gift from God. Bone of their bone. Flesh of their flesh. Living, breathing, charming, sometimes squalling, evidence of their love for each other. To me there is nothing that so sanctifies the marriage vows as the knowledge that one day the bride's bouquet will make room for the baby's bottle.

It's a simple step from marriage certificate to birth certificate, but it's not an easy step. A man was out collecting money and used clothing for the orphans home. He rang one doorbell and a rather harried, harassed looking young mother answered the door. "I'm collecting things for the orphan's home. Do you have anything to donate?" the man asked. To which the young mother replied, with some vigor, "Yes! Two kids!"

Well, "the little bundle of joy" does not drop "as the gentle dew from heaven." It often comes with the impact of an atomic bomb. The new baby upsets routines. It shatters habit patterns. It changes all of life. And while both father and mother bear the brunt of this sudden shift in the center of domestic gravity, the lion's share of the burden falls upon the mom. That's why we honor her especially today.

One of the beautiful poems which has come to my attention is one written by Grace Noll Crowell which says,
"This is her day,
Though everyday is hers
Brimmed as they are with urgent tasks and deeds,
The glad young mother who must daily meet
Small children's constant needs.

This is her day,
the mother who has seen
Her children grow like young corn in the sun,
Tall, straight, and clean; who takes a keen delight
And pride in every one.

This is her day,
The mother now grown old,
Who folds her hands, and slowly rocks her chair,
Who nods and smile across the gathering dusk
At a child who is not there.

This is their day, the mothers of the world,
And the whole nation pauses as it should,
To honor them who know the poignant pain
And joy of motherhood."

As this poem implies,
"Motherhood begins with a young woman in her early twenties and continues on through life, during which she may be not only a mother, but a grandmother and a great-grandmother. With the passing years there come to her changing demands, needs and responsibilities."

Therefore, this morning, as we honor the lovely lady through whom God gave us life, we will pay tribute to the "Seven Stages of Motherhood," with a mother lighting a candle for each stage, as we remember something of the unique demands and responsibilities that come to mom as she moves from bride's bouquet on to grand baby's bottle.

The Mother of a Firstborn Baby (Organist play a few bars of Brahm's lullaby. Fade to silence)
The first stage of motherhood begins with her newborn baby cradled in her arms. And there's nothing quite so beautiful as the inner glow which lights the countenance of a mother as she guards her baby.

One poet put it this way --
"God made the streams that gurgle down the purple mountainside.
He made the gorgeous coloring with which the sunset's dyed.
He made the hills and covered them with glory, and he made
The sparkle on the dewdrop and the flecks of light and shade.
Then knowing all earth needed was a climax for her charms,
He made a little woman with a baby in her arms.

He made the arching rainbow that is thrown across the sky.
He made the blessed flowers that nod and smile as we pass by.
He made the gladsome beauty as she bows with queenly grace.
But sweetest of them all, he made the love light in the face
That bends above a baby, warding off the world's alarms,
That charming little woman with a baby in her arms."

George W. Wiseman gives evidence that he is, indeed, a wise man when he writes:
"God could not be in every place
With loving hands to help erase
The teardrops from each baby's face
And so he thought of a mother.

He could not send us here alone
And leave us to a fate unknown
Without providing for his own,
The outstretched arms of mother.

He could not watch us night and day
and kneel beside our crib to pray
Or kiss our little aches away;
And so he sent us mother.

And when our childhood days began
He simply could not take command,
That's why he placed our tiny hands
Securely into mother's."

This morning we begin by honoring mother's of new born babies, mothers who are having their first experience of motherhood, and mothers who have added a new life to their family within the last year. I'd like to have all such mothers stand just now as one of you, Name the mom comes forward to light a candle in your honor.

The Mother of a Pre-School Child (Hymn, "For the Beauty of the Earth")
Our second candle is in honor of mothers of pre-school children, of boys and girls who are now out of infancy, but who are still at home under mother's constant watch and care.

Psychologists reckon these years to be the most important in the development of a child's character in life. The impressions a youngster gains in these plastic years of early childhood will stay with him through all his days.

My friend, Dr. Curtis R. Nims, was right when he said,
"Motherhood is not an acute degree, conferred by a biological accident. It is a chronic condition earned only by loving sacrifice through time."
That is why it's so important for moms to grasp this opportunity to build into their children thoughts and impressions and experiences which will make it natural for them to find God and to follow Jesus.

Ruby Weyburn Tobias saw the importance of this when she penned these lovely lines:
"The while she darns children' socks
She prays for little stumbling feet.
Each folded pair within its box
Fits faith's bright sandals, sure and fleet.

While washing out, with mother pains,
Small dusty suits and frocks and slips,
She prays that God may cleanse the stains
From little hearts and hands and lips.

And when she breaks the fragrant bread,
Or pours each portion in its cup,
For grace to keep their spirits fed
Her mother heart is lifted up.

Oh, busy moms, whose souls grow faint,
Whose tasks seem longer than the day,
Remember, you need not be a cloistered saint
To find a little time to pray!"

This morning we pay homage to all mothers of young children who, throughout these formative years, are prayerfully attempting to mold their little ones in the likeness of Christ Won't you stand, all mothers of pre-school children, as one of you, , comes forward to light a candle in your honor.

The Mother of a School Child (Hymn, "Just As I Am, Thine Own to Be")
One of the most exciting and demanding stages of motherhood is that which we honor now, the stage which sees the growing youngster skip off to kindergarten or grammar school.

It is this period when a wise mother begins to loosen the apron strings which tie her to her children, as she guides her offspring through the conflicting periods when they want to be like "the big kids" and, at the same time, be a baby once again.

It's a hectic period, and Adam N. Reiter describes it in a delightful bit of verse entitled, "Hey, Mom!" Some of you will remember it, for I've used it before.
"He dashes in as though pursued
And stops short at the door;
Breathes deeply to regain his stance
And then lets out a roar
That echoes harshly through the house
In contrast to its calm.
The neighbors think that something's wrong
when junior shouts, 'Hey, Mom!'

And then I hear, 'I'm hungry!'
Or he wants to know the time,
Or else his trousers seat 'got tore'
Or 'please,' he'd like a dime."
All prefaced by a healthy whoop
As gentle as a bomb
When my young hopeful calls for aid
And bellers out, 'Hey, Mom!'

Rather disconcerting when
Indulging in a nap
To be rudely 'wakened
By a vocal thunder clap,
To find it's only junior
Who's creating all the stir
For reason that, 'I missed you, Mom,
And wondered where you were.'

But bless his heart, it's really nice to know
Despite his roguish whim,
That I 'stack up,' as Junior says,
And means so much to him.
And though he jars my jaded nerves
The time is destined, when
I'd gladly have a six-year-old
To shout. . . 'Hey, Mom!'. . .again."

Well, in honor of all mothers of young school children, we light our third candle this morning, and ask you to stand as____________ pays tribute to you.

The Mother of An Adolescent (Hymn, "I Would Be True")
It isn't easy to be a parent during the fourth stage of motherhood, for these are the adolescent years. The years of junior and senior high school, when son and daughter are in a kind of no-man's land between childhood and adulthood.

Someone, who must have been the parent of a teenager, made some rather astute observations about adolescents in a bit of rollicking verse which I find to be irreplaceable in a sermon like this.
"What are adolescents made of, made of?
Parents know what adolescents are made of.

Chile on hot dogs, vanilla in cokes,
Hilarious whooping at practical jokes,
Phone conversations all night and all day
Dripping with 'cool-man,' 'far-out,' and 'O.K.'

Football and grade cards and senior class dues,
Loud cries of horror at clean tennis shoes.
Moods of hilarity followed by gloom,
Pennants, and posters all over his room.

Wiser of course, than father or mother,
Colossal disdain for that terrible kid brother.
Allowances that melt with incredible speed
For recordings and anything else they don't need.

A fine unconcern for dinner that waits,
And night after night, just nothing but dates
And dates and dates and dates.
That's what adolescents are made of."

Well, of course, that isn't all that adolescents are made of. There is a great deal more to them.
There is the possibility of growing spiritual awareness. Of response to the highest in Christ. Of learning the satisfaction of living unselfishly.

Yes, teenagers are people. People with serious thoughts and earnest purposes. People who need the best a mother can give them in terms of love and guidance and understanding.

Perhaps that's why Patricia Clafford prayed:
"Oh, give me, God, the wisdom that I need
To mold the tender lives within my care;
Give me the power that I may subtly lead
Them into righteous fields to settle there.

I ask for them no rainbowed path of ease,
I ask for them no store of wealth or fame,
I only ask that by their lives they please
You, and the world, with an untarnished name.

I know that they are weak and life is strong,
And sometimes honest roads look very drear,
That winning laurels often takes too long
And luring vistas from all sides appear . . .

But while I have my young beneath my wing,
God, help me guide them right, in everything."

In honor of those mothers who have prayed that prayer, or one just like it, again and again, we ask all mothers of adolescents to stand now as_____________ lights a candle in your name.

The Mother of a College Young Person (Hymn, "This Is My Father's World")
The fifth stage of motherhood comes when son or daughter true marches off to college. Or begins a career. Or joins some branch of our nation's armed forces.

Home just isn't the same with the kids away. Oh, at first, there's a sense of mild relief in the knowledge that now one has a bit of time for herself. But soon mom is eagerly looking forward to the holiday or vacation or leave-time when the family can be together once again.

It's during these years that the maturing young adult runs into new sounds and sights. New ideas and temptations cross his or her path. New opportunities and privileges come crowding upon him or her. It is then that a wise mother begins to see the fruit of her earlier training. It is then, even though her "child" must inevitably pass through periods of doubt and seeking, that she finds God's promise true.
"Raise up a child in the way that it should go, and when it is old, it will not
depart from it."

When I announced my mother's day sermon, someone who remains unidentified, was kind enough to send me a copy of an article entitled: "I Had The Meanest Mother In The World."
I found it to be helpful because, while much of it is overstated, it dramatically points up the importance of mother's influence in forming a young adult.
"I had the meanest mother in the whole world.
While other kids ate candy for breakfast,
I had to have cereal, eggs or toast.
While others had cakes and candy for lunch,
I had to eat a sandwich.
My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times.
You'd think we were a chain gang.
She had to know who our friends were,
And what we were doing.
I'm nearly ashamed to admit it,
But she actually struck us!
Can you imagine someone actually hitting a child
Just because she disobeyed?

My mother actually had the nerve to break the
Child-Labor Law.
She made us work!
We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook,
And all sorts of cruel things.
My mother always insisted upon our telling the truth,
The whole truth, and nothing but the truth,
Even if it killed us,
And sometimes it nearly did.

By the time we were teenagers,
Our life became even more unbearable.
None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running.
She embarrassed us no end by making our dates
And friends come to the door to get us.
If I spent the night with a girl friend,
She checked on me to see if I was really there.
While my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13,
My old-fashioned mother refused to let me date
Until the age of 15 and 17.
15, that is, if you were only going to a school function,
And that was once or twice a year.

We could not lie in bed, 'sick' like our friends did,
And miss school.
Our marks in school had to be up to par.
With our mother behind us, talking, hitting, and demanding respect,
None of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out.
Two of us attained some higher education.
None of us has ever been arrested, divorced, or beaten his mate.
Each of my brothers served his time in the service
Of his country.
And whom do we have to blame for the terrible
Way we turned out?
You're right, our mean mother.

Look at all the things we missed.
We never got to march in a protest parade,
Nor take part in a riot,
Or burn draft cards. (Mom said, 'You burn your draft card and
I burn my check book!') and a million and one
Other things our friends did.
She forced us to grow up in a God-fearing, truly
Educated, honest way.
Using this as a background, I'm trying to raise my children.
I stand a little taller, and I'm filled with a sense
Of pride when my children call me 'mean.'
Because, you see, thank God,
He gave me the meanest mother in the world."

I'd like those mothers of college students, young people establishing their goals in a career, service men and women, to stand now that we might honor you as one of you,____________ lights a candle in your name.

The Mother of Married Children (Hymn, "Now Thank Well All Our God")
Our sixth candle is in honor of the mothers who have become mothers-in-law. And these particular moms have come in for no end of kidding.

For instance, did you hear about the man who spent his two-weeks vacation with his mother-in-law each year because it made it seem like a month!

And of course, there is the question and answer of the day as it was printed in the Fulton, Mo. Argus. The question was: What is the maximum penalty of bigamy? And the answer was: Two mother-in-laws!

Well, while we enjoy a few chuckles at mother-in-law's expense, I was delighted to find a little poem in the Chicago Sun-times. If my now sainted Mother-in-law were here this morning, I'd want to say this to her,
"Dear Mother, I am grateful for
The daughter that you raised.
Both you and she deserve the best
And you should both be praised.

I thank you for her gentleness
Her understanding way,
And every sacrifice for me
She makes from day to day.

Her loving smile, her helping hand,
And every moment spent
With sympathy, devotion and
With true encouragement.

Her guidance and protection to
The children as they grow,
While telling them and showing them
The things they needed to know.

I thank you, dear Mother, for
The girl you brought to life.
The princess fair, the charming one,
Who is my lovely wife."

I would like all of those women present who now have the high honor of being a mother-in-law to stand as one of you, _____________ lights our sixth candle in you honor.

The Mother Who Is a Grandmother (Hymn, "Blessed Assurance")
Our final candle is in honor of grandmothers. Those mothers who have not only raised their own families, but now observe, and often assist in the upbringing of a new generation.

While digging throughout my files I came across a little girl's letter about grandma, and decided it deserved a place in today's sermon. It's entitled "What A Grandmother Is."
"A grandmother is a lady who has no children of her own
So she likes other people's little girls.
A grandfather is a man grandmother.
He goes for walks with the boys and they talk about
Fishing, and tractors, and things like that.

Grandmothers don't have to do anything except be there.
It's enough if they drive us to the market where the pretend horse is
And have lots of dimes ready.
Or, if they take us for walks, they should slow down
Past things like, pretty leaves or caterpillars.
They should never ever say, 'hurry up.'

They wear glasses, and sometimes funny underwear.
Sometimes they can take their teeth and gums out.
It's better if they don't typewrite or play cards
Except with us.
They don't have to be smart,
Only answer questions like, 'Why do dogs hate cats?'
And 'How come God isn't married?'
They don't talk baby talk
Like visitors do, because it is hard to understand.
And when they read to us
They don't skip.
More than that, they don't mind if it's the same old story

Everybody should have a grandmother,
Especially if they don't have television.
For grandma's are the only grownups who have got time for kids."

There is an ancient legend to the effect that the gods once summoned all mortals to the Mount Olympus where they were to tell of their highest gifts and achievements. The one who brought the greatest gift was to receive a golden crown.
The artist brought his paintings.
The sculptor brought his statues.
The husbandman brought the fruit of his field.
The poet brought his poems.
The inventor brought his machines.
Among them also came an old woman with nothing in her hands. According to the legend the gods asked her, "Why are you here with nothing in you hands?" The woman replied, "I'm just observing. I wanted to see who won the crown, for all of those people are my children."
Where upon the gods replied:
"Give her the golden crown. She has trained and inspired them all."

May God bless all such mothers. They are the salt of the earth, the joy of heaven, and all honor is due them. As we conclude our service in tribute to mothers, I want all grandmothers and great-grandmothers to stand as a candle is lit in your honor by_______________

(When all seven candles are lit invite the audience to stand and close with this prayer.)
"Oh God, we thank thee for the gifts
That come from thee alone,
And chiefly for that mother's love
Which is so like thine own.

The love that shields our infancy,
The love that guides our youth,
That shows the wonders of thy law,
The glories of thy truth.

We pray that thou wilt greatly bless
Our mothers on this day,
With treasures from thy heavenly store
That cannot pass away.

We pray that sons and daughters all
May ever loyal be.
And may our mothers' prayers fulfill
By truly serving thee." Amen.

Instructions: For this unique Mother's Day message you will need a seven candle candleabra and seven tall candles which will be lit by seven different moms you will select earlier in the week. Have them sit on the platform with you. You will also need an eighth tall candle to be placed on, or by, your pulpit. You will light this candle as you begin your message. Each mom will use it to light "her" candle. Instruct them to begin with the lowest level of candles and move upward, level by level.. Use wisdom in selecting the moms to be sure they are truly representative. Select your one of your most beloved grandmas to light the very top candle. If she has to stretch a bit to reach it, that adds to the fun. Have your organist wait until each candle has been lit before playing four to eight bars of the next song, fading to silence, at which point you will begin the next section. If you are uncomfortable doing the poems from memory, have each one typed out on a separate card or sheet. Then pick them up, one by one, and read them! This is a sermon you can repeat many times, using different moms. Enjoy!