Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:3-4
Whose Pace?
A recent Saturday morning found me in a familiar setting – waiting near the finish line of a race. Though the location has varied over the years, I’ve reveled in cheering on my daughters and granddaughters to finish strong in 5ks, 1-mile fun runs, and tot trots.
On this particular Saturday, my daughter, Mary, and her daughters, Lyla (12) and Emma (10), were running in a 5K to benefit a local charity. Though Emma has a lot of heart and enthusiasm, she usually completes a 5K by walking, running, and skipping, with Mary matching her pace.[1] But this time, Mary wanted to run the entire race, so her son, Joshua, planned to walk the course as Emma’s “sweeper.”
I kept checking the time clock, my gaze shifting between it and the course. As the minutes ticked by, I grew concerned. Even if she wasn’t keeping a PR pace, Mary should have finished. Then I saw her, rounding the corner with Emma. It turned out Emma didn’t want to risk being alone on the course, even though her brother was close behind. As they approached the finish, Emma sprinted across, leaving her mom behind. Mary graciously put Emma’s interests above her own and walked/ran the race with her, even though Emma made it clear she was going to cross the finish line first, which she did.
Imperishable Medals
Much to our delight, Emma came in first in her age group and was awarded a shiny medal for her efforts. When the winners in Mary’s age group were announced, my daughter and I exchanged a knowing look. If Mary had run the race as she’d planned, she, too, would have received a medal. Her willingness to accompany Emma cost her the medal, but Mary earned a better prize, namely her daughter’s confidence in her support.
When I saw her later, Mary mentioned that Emma said her medal belonged to both of them. I’m glad she recognized that and hope Emma will acknowledge and appreciate her mother’s sacrifices and care more often than not.
Mary wasn’t the only one who put someone else’s needs before her own. Lyla, a capable and accomplished runner, chose to run with a friend and even paused as they neared the finish line so they could cross together. That decision cost Lyla a medal, too, but her friend’s wide smile and warm embrace as they slowed to a stop were Lyla’s reward.
And Joshua faithfully walked the course, bringing up the rear in case anything happened to his little sister, though he would much rather have been at home helping his dad put the finishing touches on their entries for the BBQ contest later that day. By the time he finished, all of us were assembled at the finish line to cheer him across.
I’m proud of each one of them. They may not have received a tangible medal, but they made deposits into their heavenly accounts of imperishable treasures (Matthew 6:19-21).
Mothers are Like That
As I thought about the events surrounding the race, the phrase “mothers are like that” came to mind. I vaguely remembered it was from a commercial from my childhood. A quick Google search confirmed it was a 1963 commercial for Bayer’s children’s aspirin. A little boy named Mike went to see if his friend Josie could come out and play. When Josie’s mother said Josie wasn’t feeling well but should be better soon because she’d given her the aspirin, Mike said, “That’s what my mother gives me.” Josie’s mother replied, “That’s because she loves you. When you feel better, she feels better.” Her statement prompted the famous line, sweetly spoken by little Mike, “Mothers are like that. Yeah, they are.”
Taking that stroll down memory lane reminded me of one of Mom’s statements, “When you hurt, I hurt,” which in turn brought to mind a description I read soon after Mary was born: “Being a mother is like having your heart walk around in another person.”
A Greater Love
Becoming a mother helped me begin to understand God’s great love for me. Yet even the most selfless mother would stop short of sacrificing her child for another. The mere thought makes me shudder, yet that’s exactly what God did for us (John 3:16).
I’m not naive enough to believe all mothers are kind, caring, and selfless. If yours isn’t, remember that God loves you. If she is, remember that God loves you even more. In either case, God loves us so much that He sent His only Son, our selfless Savior, to die for us so we can be with Him forever. Remember!
Dear reader, if God blessed you with the gift of a godly mother, thank Him. And, if she’s still alive, be sure to thank her, too!
[1] Please see “Chief Cheerleader” for additional details:https://patsykuipers.com/2023/11/19/chief-cheerleader/





My baby sister barely reached 8 months of age, hence I grew up an only child with no sibling rivalry and no one to bicker with. But I saw plenty of both as I raised my daughters and now witness more of the same as I spend time with my grandchildren.
My sister’s death left an empty spot, a life-long yearning to have been able to grow up and grow old with her. In spite of my daughters’ and grandchildren’s childhood squabbling, they’re family, forever part of each other. And so it is in God’s family as He knits our hearts and lives together in love.
My ruminations on the power of our words brought to mind the scene in “Bambi”
Surely one of the earliest and most endearing games we play with babies involves disappearing behind our hands only to reappear moments later, smiling and exclaiming, “peek-a-boo!” We repeat the sequence of movements multiple times, rewarded with baby’s surprised chuckles.
Before long, infants turn into mobile toddlers, able to participate in the hiding aspect of the game. In fact, hide-and-seek becomes an oft-requested favorite, complete with random-number counting and much laughter while scurrying to find the perfect hiding spot. Shrieks are just as likely to accompany finding as being found.
Sometimes the hiding isn’t all that effective. For instance, even though most of the tiny body is covered up, a foot may remain visible. Or, try as I might, I can’t fully wedge myself between the wall and the recliner when the little people are hunting me.
These and similar interactions between the siblings give me ample opportunities to play referee on Grammie days as we cycle from harmonious play to sob-laced outbursts and back multiple times. As the hours pass, my reserves of patience often diminish. And so it was one recent afternoon when Joshua inadvertently knocked Lyla’s special colored pencils off the kitchen table, scattering all 24 of them on the floor.
Almost-3-year-old granddaughter Emma was napping peacefully when my daughter Mary arrived home with 7-year-old Joshua in tow. As he headed upstairs to change out of his school clothes, Mary and I both admonished him to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake his sleeping sister. Joshua clumped up the stairs and Mary followed up with a sternly whispered, “Joshua! Quiet!!” But, after a long day at school, Joshua was ready for some sibling interaction. By the time he reached the second floor, he was singing and then, right outside Emma’s door, he let out a spirited whoop. Mary and I barely had time to groan before he called out, “Emma’s awake!” (Really?!)
From his earliest days, Joshua has enjoyed company and his philosophy is if he’s awake, someone else should be awake to talk to or play with. Unfortunately, there are times when the person on the receiving end of his cheerful, “Wakey, wakey!”, isn’t ready to wake up, much less engage in a conversation. For now, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not being malicious, just thoughtless. But I hope he’ll soon learn to be more considerate and put his sisters’