Good morning. Welcome to Friday, May 9^th.

I am grateful to God—whom I worship with a clear conscience, as my ancestors did—when I remember you constantly in my prayers night and day. Recalling your tears, I long to see you so that I may be filled with joy. I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:3-7

Her name is mentioned one time. Not a word is said about what she looks like or what her homes was like or anything else that we think matters in life. Only her name, Eunice.

We can make lots of educated guesses about her. We can imagine her getting up before the rest of the family to begin making breakfast, walking to the town well to draw water, spending the day doing all that was necessary to make a home. We can imagine her praying for and with her children. But all we know for sure is that she was Timothy’s mother.

It is an interesting dynamic about life, how in some settings our identity is a function of the children we have parented. “OH, you’re KATIE’S father? Well how nice to meet you.” “Hi everybody, this is MICHAEL NELSON’S father!” Most of us love when that happens. Our children are our legacy. To be named after them is a sign of honor.

Eunice gave the best gift to her son that a mother and father can give. She helped him see his life connected to the source of life. Of all the good that a mother (and father) can provide for their children, nothing has the eternal consequences of modeling and instilling a strong faith in the goodness, the presence and the purposes of God. When the Apostle Paul showed up in town, and needed someone to come along on his journey as his apprentice, Timothy was ready to go.

But Eunice didn’t do what she did alone. She didn’t make it up as she went. For she too had been raised with a strong faith, modeled and instilled by her mother Lois, whose name is also mentioned just this one time in the Bible.

And so it goes. Down through the generations and the centuries. The gift of life nurtured in the lives of the young, who grow up to make their own mark on the wider world. This is the rhythm that God built into the universe. It is the heartbeat of creation.

This Sunday, (like every other day), is our opportunity to express our gratitude in person or in prayer, to the women who assumed the responsibility of nurturing our lives. Of all the other things that women (and men) do in the world today, nothing has the significance or the consequences of the care they provide for their children.

Let us pray: Dear Jesus, you knew the love and devotion of a mother who was with you from cradle to cross. We thank you today for the anonymous women who made their mark on the world and then expanded their influence through the lives of their children. Thank you for the rhythms of life and the opportunities we have today to do our part. In Jesus’ name. Amen.