"The woman conceived and bore a son, and when she saw he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took for him a basket made of bulrushes and daubed it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child in it and placed it among the reeds in the river." Exodus 2:2-3, ESV
To hold something tightly, clinging to it, protecting it, is a natural reaction. We all can name items, people or memories that we have held onto with a death grip. Laying those things down, offering them over, as sacrifice, to the Lord, is a completely different action.
Luke, recording Stephen's speech, in the book of Acts, notes that when Moses was born he was "beautiful in God's sight." (Acts 7:20) He was a precious child, indeed. He would go on to lead Israel out of slavery. He would be a conduit, through which, God preformed miracles, signs and wonders. Moses' mother saw that he was fine. She saw more than the beauty a mother finds in the face of her every child. She saw more than her eyes, his father's hair, ten finger, ten toes.
For three months, this precious woman, quietened her beautiful baby boy. Kept him closely to her, out of sight, rocked and loved him in secret in order to protect his life. The writer of Hebrews notes that Moses' parents hid him "in faith."
What happens next is remarkably fascinating. With resolve, Moses' mother begins to make a basket. A task she has surely done before. She begins to weave and paste, weave and paste, a basket for precious cargo, for sacrifice, for faith. This time she would not carry bread to a neighbor. She would not return with a basket full of produce from the market. She would not carry flowers from the field to grace her home. She would place her son in this basket. This son, beautiful in the sight of God, was no longer small enough, quite enough, to keep concealed. Still, the child was fine. Still, Moses was to be used by the Lord.
Did she cry? As she placed this beautiful boy in her handmade basket, did she shed tears of sorrow? Did she quietly kiss his cheeks and sing to him the song she had sung all her children? Did she give him one last squeeze and smell his hair?
She placed Moses in the basket, the basket in the river, and her hope in knowing what Moses found would be better than the death that awaits him, in her home, should he be found out.
If you continue to read, you will find that Moses' was found. He was spared. And, his mother? She was paid to nurse and raise him. In giving up her son, she received him back with blessing.
I do not have children. I am not a mother. I am content in my station in life. I love that the Lord has led me into families to love and care for their little ones. My heart is overjoyed when I get to love on, teach, discipline and watch these precious people learn and grow. But, from time to time I feel the desire to one day have children of my own.
I do not ponder this desire long before I am reminded of Moses' mother. I think about her resolve, her understanding; and, mostly about her faith. To construct a basket, knowing is was a boat, and walk to the river, holding a child. To then kneel down, prepare the basket, love her son one last time, and lay him down. To walk to the river's edge, wade in just a bit, so as to make sure she can gently place the basket in the water.....and release her son to the sovereignty of God. This is motherhood. To know the child your bore is not yours, but the Father's. To know that you have been called to present this child, this gift, back to Him, for His purpose. To recognize the beauty of the child lies in what God has fashioned for their future. To hold a child so closely, so protectively, and let him go at the same time.
I do not merely want to have children..... I want to be Moses' mother.
Happy Mother's Day.
~Sarah
