A Biblical Exegesis Honoring My Mother on Her Birthday
Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
I have one, and I inherited her. Thank goodness, because I can't even afford a ring pop these days.
The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.
I’m not sure that “spoil” is a thing that has a modern day parallel, but if it refers to anything that doesn’t start and end with my mother, my dad couldn’t care less about it.
She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
My mom has made my father spaghetti for dinner every Thursday night for 35 years. In my dad’s opinion, this is all the good he needs. One year, when my father was working out of state on a regular basis, my mother served tried to serve soy spaghetti (My grandmother's maiden name is Origlio - "evil" is too weak an adjective for soy pasta). I suspected something was up when she suggested we eat by candlelight, and I knew something was wrong when I saw the amount of sauce covering the pasta (the only area of her life where my mother could be accused of stinginess). Still, the passage doesn’t say anything about doing good to your children all the days of your life, so the argument stands.
She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.
My mother is a genius with a needle and any type of material; I’ve seen her turn a ball of yarn into an elephant in less time than it takes me to do my hair in the morning. And I don’t even blow dry it.
Her endeavors with flax have been slightly less successful, as I recall from a very dark period of my childhood - maybe because in biblical days they wore this material, and my mother seemed to think we should eat it.
She is like the merchants' ships; she bringeth her food from afar.
If we’re talking about “afar from what most people would think passes for food” then, yes.
Once in a rare burst of motivation to eat healthy, I called my mom for some recipe ideas. Her response: “Blend a half of a ripe avocado with organic pumpkin puree and cocoa powder. It tastes just like chocolate mousse.” I don’t know when the last time my mom ate chocolate mousse was, but I think it may have been never.
Also infamous is her “Kermit the Frog” soup, some green vegetable concoction that she named thus to encourage us to eat it - because of course every child dreams about having a beloved character pureed and heated for dinner.
She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
I was afraid of kidnappers as a child, but only at 3 in the morning. In my mind, up to that time people were awake, and after that time, people woke up for the day. Because my mom did. Woke up for the day. At 3 in the morning. She never brought me any meat, though. I think they must have had different eating schedules in biblical times.
She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.
There may have been a time when the Vine Street Expressway was named after the rolling vineyards surrounding it, but I’m inclined to think that West Philadelphia has never been prime real estate for that type of cultivation. So. No planting of vineyards. My mother did have a garden, and one year we harvested some sunflower seeds.
Come to think of it, I planted those sunflowers.
My mother has lots of other talents.
She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.
I think running a half marathon every morning might pass as the modern day equivalent of girding loins with strength.
She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.
My mother will stay up until 1am writing lesson plans for her students (teacher of the year, every year). Unless she's up until 1am making "Mimi" dolls for her granddaughters.
She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.
My mother unfortunately did not pass these tools onto her daughters. Forewarning to any future suitors - the distaff and spindle stops there.
She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
One particularly hot summer in Philadelphia, my mother dragged my sister and me to center city to hand out frozen water bottles to the homeless. But heaven forbid any non-poor or needy try to reach or stretch out their hands to quench their thirst.
"Excuse me, sir. SIR?" she tapped her hand and the construction worker turned to face her, towering over her petiteness, face streaked with black sweat. "Excuse me, sir, but are you homeless?! I'm only giving these out to homeless people."
I couldn't say how this episode ended because I had melted away in mortification.
She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
If anyone knows the benefits of red clothing for warding off winter precipitation, please include in the comments below and I'm sure my mom incorporated it at some point.
She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.
My mother made her own prom dress, among other things. No tapestry involved though. Pretty sure that Maria Von Trapp was the last one to make that sartorial choice. Also I think that tapestries involve weaving. Granted, Urban Outfitters sells tapestries, and I assume they are not handwoven, unless they have a bunch of hipsters chained to a loom in the supply closet that they aren’t revealing to the public, which would explain a lot.
Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.
Because this is a birthday post for my mom, please refer to previous years for further information about my dad. Also, I’m not sure what “being known in the gates” means. He was on the borough council.
She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
Belt making is high on the list of things that my mom is successful at, on the list right behind knitted elephants and "Mimi" dolls.
Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.
If future rejoicing occurs inversely to present suffering inflicted by strong-willed daughters, that party is going to be off the hook!
She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.
I have never made a decision without first talking to my mom. Except when I drove across the country to live out my hippie dreams in the West. That time, I went with the “better to ask forgiveness than permission” approach.
She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
To a fault. I don’t think my mother realizes the sheer pointlessness of wiping the fingerprints off of the door every time the grandkids put their sticky hands all over it, but she pushes on bravely. There is general agreement that the last time she sat down through an entire meal was in 1982.
Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.
Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.
And here I am, arising up (is it possible to arise in any other direction?) to call her blessed. Due to the geographical ambiguity of these previously referenced “gates,” I’m taking her praise to the blogosphere.
Love you Mom.
Your own work (and what a load of work I was, and am),
Emily Ann
