The Day She Slapped Me

I remember it like it was yesterday.  I was fifteen years old and was standing in the kitchen having a discussion with Mother.  Actually, I was being disrespectful, yelling and telling her what I thought.  Then she slapped me.  Right in the face.  I was dazed.  I couldn’t believe what had just happened.  Mother had just slapped me.

I have re-lived that day many times.  I have wished I could go back and have a do-over.  I wish I hadn’t talked to her like that. She slapped me.  I deserved it.  And I needed it. 

Mother always waited up for me…during high school, all the way up till I got saved.  Whether I came in at nine or midnight, she was sitting in her rocking chair waiting on me.  She had the chair positioned so when I walked in the first thing I saw was her.  She always hugged me…which now, some thirty-five years later, I realize she wasn’t just hugging me – she was smelling of me.

She prayed for me and believed in me.  When I was running from God she’s the one who told me, “You’ll never get away from the convictions of the Holy Spirit.”  She was right.  And neither have I gotten away from her influence. 

I’ll never forget the day she slapped me.  I’ll never forget the way she loved me.  She was made to be the mother of a preacher.  I am grateful.  Thank you Joy Ellawee Mason (1933-2006).