I’m thinking right now about my mother, and I’m not sure why.

Oh, I think of Mom often, of course, and that’s no surprise. It’s not just that without Mom, I would not be breathing. (You come to this column for deep wisdom and unusual insight, right?)

And you’re right if you suspect that my thoughts about my mother are deeper than just ponderings about the mind-boggling realities of genetics and more, and how—we’re talking about a mom here, but I’ll mention a dad later—an individual’s mother affects not only that person but all the generations to come.

True, and amazing, but I’m thinking about one mom. Mine.

I arrived on the scene late. I now think that I won the lottery on birth order. I was the fourth of five kids—and I also grabbed the unusual spot of first child of the “second family.” My folks already had their “first family,” two boys and a girl. I came along fifteen years after my sister. I was, no doubt, a complete “don’t-forget-to-breathe” surprise. But, after many gasps, they welcomed me as a January 11, 1957, post-Christmas gift from God. Two years later, they had another baby boy. He was planned. Planned, I remind him often, as a playmate for little Curtis. And that’s worked out very well. But back to the point…

You may be more likely to understand now that my mother was a strong woman. She had to be. Her minister husband was often away from home preaching and teaching. I tell you the truth when I say that we all knew that Dad did all that he did to further a Kingdom that was not his, and we honored him for it. But I’m also telling you the truth when I say that my mother was an incredibly hard worker, taking up the slack in every way she could. I also know that what she undertook had to take its toll, and forty years of PTA meetings was not the hardest part.

For most of my growing up years, Mom didn’t (as we used to say) “work outside the home,” but, oh, how hard that little lady worked! One of the most amazing things about amazing moms is that they are absolutely willing to do anything necessary for the good of their families. (By the way, I married one of those.)

Maybe that’s why I’m thinking especially of Mom right now. It’s almost Christmas, and whenever I see a beautifully wrapped Christmas package, I think of my mother. You see, the time came when our family needed some extra income, especially at Christmas. Mom began working as a seasonal gift-wrapper at a very nice (and high end) store near downtown Amarillo. The magic she could work with wrapping paper and ribbon rivaled anything Santa could ever do with even his best toys. Oh, what better fate could await any gift than to be so adorned!

And so, it’s no mystery. I see gifts, and I think of my mother. I think of her as God’s sweet gift to me. I think of her warm smile and her sweet hugs. As a Christian, I fully believe that one eternal day, I’ll receive those precious gifts from my mother again. I can’t imagine how my Father will accomplish that, but he is, after all, the Giver of the best Gift of all. And perfectly, though surprisingly, wrapped, too.