A couple weeks ago I read a true story and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

To live in a land where the leader declares all baby boys from your culture and race should be drowned. I cannot stop thinking about a mother who defied this and thankfully the midwives from their community defied this as well. 

I pondered on how the details of this story and imagined….

The labor pains ended as the final push rushed her new baby into the arms of her midwife. She didn’t need to ask when she looked into the eyes of her midwife; the look was not of joy but of fear and they both knew the danger her newborn was now in.

The midwife slowly lifted up this beautiful baby boy into the loving arms of his mother.

“Jo” had a son. This is also why Jo kept her pregnancy hidden uncertain if she would have a daughter allowed to live or a son who was required to be drowned at birth.  This barbaric rule would never be followed by Jo nor her midwife yet it would only be a matter of time before this secret would be known.

Jo nursed her baby and his big sister kissed her baby brother lingering as though she was thinking she may not have time to love him forever.  Big sister was old enough to know the hateful rule given to their people and mature enough to run errands and keep their secret safe.

They trusted the God of their fathers yet cautious to mask the baby’s cries with other sounds and noises day and night.  Weeks passed until Jo’s beautiful son was 12 weeks old and it became clear her baby’s cries and presence could no longer be hidden. She had to make a decision. Jo looked upon her son with her mother’s heart and cried praying to the God of her fathers for direction, a sign…anything. The reality is she would give her life to save her son yet also aware of what could happen to them all should this defiant choice become known. Jo rocked and nursed her baby as her older daughter knelt beside them both aware her mother was nearing a time to make a decision that would potentially change their lives forever.

Jo glanced around the room seeing the papyrus basket she had woven years earlier when her daughter was born. Her son was sleeping soundly now in his sister’s arms as Jo began to work quickly and thoughtfully uncertain of how this would end but somehow certain she now knew exactly what she had to do. So grateful her husband had finished making the tar he used to waterproof the boats their master’s used to float on the river. She began to coat the woven basket so that that water would find no opening. Jo’s mind recalled a childhood story of a much larger boat that saved an entire family and two of every animal during the time of the great flood now hoping it wouldn’t rain anytime soon.

It was time. Jo and her first born carefully timed their journey to the river when baby was dreaming peacefully. Jo laid him carefully into the basket, wrapped him in a cloth that carried her aroma hoping it would help him to continue to sleep for however long his journey took. Jo held onto the basket as long as she dared releasing him to float among the reeds holding her empty arms outstretched seemingly offering her baby to the God of her fathers believing he would somehow… live.

Jo asked her daughter to follow along the river as long as she could see him. Her daughter watched as the current took the basket straight into the waters and reeds where the King’s daughter spent time and known to swim and bathe. The sounds of cries began to emerge from her brother’s basket and she saw that the ruler’s daughter could hear it directing her attendants to bring the basket to her.  She watched as this woman opened the basket and laid eyes on her brother, crying and wrapped in the cloth of her mother with material that would be known to be from her people.

She knew this woman had the power to end her brother’s life yet watched as the King’s daughter gently picked up her baby brother and held him as if she immediately somehow loved him.

Jo returned with empty arms to their home unable to follow her son’s tiny ark unaware of the scene unfolding before her daughter and the King’s daughter.

Jo wanted to trust the God of her fathers while longing for her arms to hold her son once again. She could hear his cries as though he was not far away certain it must the echoes of the cries she has known for the three months embedded within her heart.  Jo could not believe her eyes when the door flew open seeing her first born holding her son. He was crying for his mother and her nourishment unaware of the brief journey he just took that brought him back to his mother. Jo was informed of what happened and knew her time with him would be until he was weaned as he now would be the adopted son of the king’s daughter. Jo cried tears of joy knowing her son would live and that her prayers were heard and answered. The God of her fathers was her God and the God of her children.

Months passed and Jo knew he would soon be weaned and leave their family. Jo’s heart ached yet different now as she was so certain her son would have a life that would forever be watched over by her God knowing there was a plan and a purpose for her son. And Pharoah’s daughter loved and adopted him and named him Moses.

As tomorrow is Mother’s Day I think of Jochebed aka “Jo” and I think of my own two mothers. Each were faced with decisions that would have changed the course of my life. The first mother saw her children taken away and had to choose to fight the system or trust I and my brother went into a safe and healthy family. The second mother who picked me up had the choice of adopting and loving me and raising me as her own, and did. Both of my mothers followed their mother’s heart and my life has been blessed because of it.

These stories are true; mine and Jochebeds.  You can read what I read in Exodus 2 for the details we were given for the one story. You can ask me for any details of my story as most know my life is an open book!

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers and the women with mother’s hearts who love the ones who enter your life.

And yes, Happy Mother’s Day to my two mothers-one in the presence of our Lord and Savior and the one hanging out and still driving around in Lac du Flambeau, 91 years young!