A possible paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 13 for loving mothers
If I talk to my children about what is right and what is wrong, but have not
love, I am like a ringing doorbell or pots banging in the kitchen. And though I
know what stages they will go through, and understand their growing pains, and
can answer all their questions about life, and believe myself to be a devoted
mother, but have not love, I am nothing.
If I give up the fulfilment of a career to make my children's lives better and
stay up all night sewing costumes or baking cookies at short notice, but grumble
about lack of sleep, I have not love and accomplish nothing.
A loving mother is patient with her children's immaturity and kind even when
they are mot; a loving mother is not jealous of their youth nor does she hold it
over their heads whenever she has sacrificed for them. A loving mother does not
push her children into doing things her way. She is not irritable, when
chickenpox has kept her confined with three whining children for two weeks, and
does not resent the child who brought the bug home in the first place.
A loving mother is not relieved when her disagreeable child finally disobeys her
directly and she can punish him, but rather rejoices with him when he is being
co-operative. A loving mother bears much of the responsibility for her children;
she believes in them; she hopes in each one's individual ability to stand out as
a light in a dark world; she endures every backache and heartache her
accomplishment.
A loving mother never really dies. As for home-baked bread, it will be consumed
and forgotten; as for spotless floors, they will soon gather dust and heel
marks. And as for children, well, right now toys, friends and food are
all-important to them. But when they grow up it will have been how their mothers
loved them that will determine how they love others.
In that way mothers live on.
So care, training, and a loving mother reside in a home, these three, but the
greatest of these is a loving mother.
