Ethel's Writing's

 A Mother's Love

(c) Ethel Hiday Wicksey


            I will call her Pheobe. Pheobe was twenty-seven years old. She had been married for six years. God had not blessed her with a child. She prayed every day for this blessing. One day Pheobe felt there was something different about her body. She went to the doctor and he confirmed what she thought. She was expecting her first child.

      Pheobe could not thank her Lord and Saviour enough for this answered prayer. She prayed every night that her child would grow up and serve the Lord. Pheobe spent hours preparing a special room for this blessed child that would soon arrive to make her house a home. The months of waiting finally were over and Pheobe held her newborn daughter in her arms. Her husband Melvin never tired of holding his little daughter Rose in his arms. He sung lullabies to her calling her his little Rose Pedal. Every night Pheobe and Melvin would pray over Rose and teach her about Jesus. Rose grew up and was soon off to school.

            One night Melvin was on his way home from work when a car swerved in front of him. He had two choices, hit the car head on, or swerve and hit a family walking along side the road.

            The hurt in Rose’s eyes as she sprinkle rose pedals over her father’s coffin always remained with Pheobe. Rose was only eleven when her father went home to be with Jesus. The anger inside Rose festered and festered. She hated God and Jesus for taking her father away. She had been blessed with a loving mother who provided her with everything she needed. Pheobe still prayed for Rose every night.

            At the age of sixteen, Rose decide she would not go to church any more. How could she believe in a God who allowed her father to die?

            The time flew by so fast. Rose started to hang out with the wrong crowd. She could never forgive God. Rose distance herself from her mother after she married again. Rose never loved her stepbrother and sister. How could her mother do this to her and her father? The anger continued to boil and fester.

            Pheobe continued to pray for Rose and ask God to protect her each day.

            At the age of twenty-one, Rose inherited a lot of money. The festering anger boiled inside of her. It had been a year since Rose had phoned her mother. The last time she went home for the weekend it was a disaster. Rose had a ring in her nose and her hair was a bright pink. The visit had lasted only a few minutes. The words began to fly. The obscenities coming out of Roses mouth had broken Pheobe’s gentile heart. All the people at the fancy Restaurant had tuned there heads away in embarrassment. Rose ran out and jumped into her car. She burnt rubber getting out of town. The words of her mother saying I love you and the key to the door will always be under the rock echoed in her ears as she drove back to her residence at the university. Rose loved her mother and was always sorry for the way she treated her. It was like trying to mix oil and water. It just never seemed to work.

            Pheobe continued to pray for Rose. Dear God please use someone to reach her. I will always love her. I forgive her for the unkind words. Help her come back to You. Thank You God for answering my prayer.

            Rose was in her third year of university. She had to take this required class. Her teacher was an atheist. He spent the whole semester putting down God. Rose agreed with everything her Professor said and was able to add a few choice words to his list of reasons for not believing in God or Jesus. Rose had heard how this professor had dropped chalk on the floor for the past twenty years saying if there was a God let him stop this chalk from shattering. The professor liked to brag about how the Chalk had always shattered as it hit the floor. This really impressed Rose. This professor had so much knowledge and Rose like the dried up rose pedal she was just soaked it all up.

            Her mother continued to pray for her each night.  “Dear God let something happen to show Rose that you love her. Bring someone special into her life that will teach her about the love of Jesus.”

            It was the last day of School. The class waited in anticipation for the professor to come into the room. The door opened and a hush came over the room. The professor walked slowly up to the black board and picked up a brand new piece of chalk. He had examined it earlier to make sure it had no cracks or blemishes. His reputation stood on what was going to happen in the next few minutes. He turned around and faced his class of three hundred young impressionable students. You could hear a pin drop. The professor said, "If there is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!"

            A hush came over the room as Ralph stood to his feet declaring his love for Jesus and belief in God. “Please God don’t let the chalk shatter he prayed to himself.” The startled professor looked him in the eye. The class of 300 held their breath in wonderment.

            The professor shouted, "You FOOL!!! If God does exist, he can keep this piece of chalk from breaking when it hits the ground!"

            The professor proceeded to drop the chalk. As he did, it slipped out of his fingers, off his shirt cuff, onto the pleats of his pants, down his leg, and off his shoe. As it hit the ground, it simply rolled away, unbroken. The professor's jaw dropped as he stared at the chalk. He looked up at Ralph in panic, and then ran out of the lecture hall.

            Ralph boldly, proceeded to walk to the front of the room; He started to share his faith in God and Jesus for the next half hour. Rose sat and listened with awe. Ralph told of how he had prayed to God for the chalk not to shatter. He told them how much Jesus loved them. Yes, God can stop a piece of chalk from shattering. The students started to drift out of the room. Rose started to cry. It was if all the hurts of the pat ten years were slowly starting to lift off her shoulders.

            The class was nearly empty now. Only Ralph and Rose remained. Ralph invited Rose to go for coffee so he could share more with her.

            Rose was able tell Ralph about all her hurts. He in turned showed her how to take them to the cross and give them to Jesus. Rose started to remember the Bible verses she had memorized as a little girl. She remembered the many nights she sat on her father’s knee as he read to her about Jesus and his love. She remembered the last time she saw her mother, and the love she had in her eyes for her after all the mean cruel things she had done and said to her. How could her mother still love her after she Rose had treated her so mean?

            Ralph invited Rose to come to church with him on Sunday. The sermon was on the prodigal son. Rose felt the minister was talking to her. He asked if any one wanted to come up to the altar and pray. Ralph walked beside Rose up to the front and knelt with her in prayer.

            The heaviness that had been on Roses heart started to melt away. It was replaced with new love and freedom. Jesus entered her heart that day.  The green of the trees seemed to be brighter. The flowers were more beautiful. The sky was so blue.

            Rose drove into the little town where her home was. Her mother's car was not in the drive way. Rose parked her car down the road and quietly walked up the street to her house. Would the key be in the secret hiding place? Rose walked up the sidewalk and lifted the painted rock. Yes, the key was there. It was with great anticipation that Rose slid the key into the lock. Yes, it still worked.

             She climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. On the dresser was a fresh cut rose. Her mother had always kept a fresh cut rose on the dresser to remind Rose of how she was a blessing from God. The tears started to flow. The love of her mother's heart for God and Jesus was felt in the house.

            The front door opened. Rose quietly descended the stairs into her mothers out stretched arms. The love and blessings of her mothers answered prayer filled the room that day.

            Rose, Your mother’s love for you was like the Father in the Prodigal son. Her longing heart never stopped yearning and praying for you to come home and become her Little Rose Pedal again.

© Ethel Hiday Wicksey 

Dedicated to my Mother

Winiffred Tulloch (Wicksey)

There’s a legend/parable that has been floating around the Internet for quite some time involving a professor and a piece of chalk. I have modified the story to make the above writing. If you are the author of this story let me know so that I can give you the credit for it.
Thank You Ethel




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