The Sunday Sermonette—Mom’s Tea Towels.

     My dear mother was an excellent cook. She could make something special out of almost nothing. But let me be clear—the rich aroma of Boeuf Bourguignon, the spices in German bratwurst, or the sweetness of Viennese pastries never filled my mom’s kitchen. Instead, her kitchen was filled with the comforting, down-home smells of southern cooking: crispy fried chicken, tangy turnip greens, buttery cornbread, and sweet pecan pies and egg custards.

     Because we lived on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, Mom could also serve up a steaming, delicious pot of seafood gumbo, its thick dark roux bubbling with succulent chunks of crabmeat and fresh Gulf shrimp.  Of course, all this cooking meant lots of dishes to wash afterward. Always hanging on a cup hook above the sink, hung one of Mom’s most prized kitchen helpers: her tea towels.

      Mom’s tea towels were almost sacred. And if anyone, especially Dad or me, used them for anything besides drying clean dishes, woe be unto them. One of the sternest scoldings I ever received from my mother was about her tea towels. I grabbed one once to clean up spilled chocolate milk on the kitchen cabinet. Even now, sixty-five years later, I can still hear the terseness in her voice.

     In the last years of Mom’s life, as her mind slipped away, I took over the cooking and household work. How quickly the delicious smells of home-cooked food vanished from our kitchen. However, I quickly discovered that many mealtime treats come in cans or are frozen in boxes. And when it was time to clean up, I always incorporated Mom’s tea towels into the work detail—although I was never as particular about them as she had been. And because I wasn’t, her once-pristine tea towels are now dingy and ragged. Seeing them now, I know Mom would not be pleased.

     On this Mother’s Day, I ask you to think about the tea towels in your life. Not those white with bleach, hanging in your kitchen for all the world to see, but those dirty tea towels that are wrapped around your heart that no one sees? Those dirty tea towels represent the guilt, regrets, and burdens each of us carries deep inside—hidden stains on our hearts and souls that we try to keep hidden. We all have moments or memories that weigh us down, much like Mom’s once-pristine tea towels, now stained and tattered.

     King David was well aware of the dirty tea towels in his life, as well. In Psalms 51:7, he pleaded with Father God: “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” This psalm reflects David’s deep sense of guilt and his genuine desire for Father God to cleanse him of his sin following his adulterous affair with Bathsheba. That affair first led to lies, then to murder, and finally to the death of their child, which was born out of wedlock. The good news is this: David’s acknowledgment of his sin was his first step toward being purged with hyssop and washed whiter than snow. It also demonstrated his humility.

     Hyssop is an interesting cleansing agent. It is an herb belonging to the mint family. It has long been considered an aromatic and medicinal herb and was used in Old Testament rituals for cleansing, particularly in the application of the blood during the Passover and in the purification rites of lepers. David’s request to be purged with hyssop signifies his desire for a thorough cleansing of his heart and mind.

     David’s wish to be whiter than snow brings to mind a complete change—a life that is pure and innocent. His longing for this purity indicates his longing to be made right with Father God, which only happens through His grace. Psalms 51:7 highlights two things. How deep our sins can be. And how great God’s mercy is.

     Looking at Mom’s old tea towels now reminds me of her desire to keep them looking “whiter than snow.” I didn’t, and the result of my failure is ever before me. Looking at them also reminds me to continually purge my inner, dirty tea towels with “hyssop,” and long for the day when all my sins will be forgiven and I’ll be “whiter than snow.” What about you? Do you long for that day, too? Please talk to Father God. He’s waiting to hear from you.

      Here’s wishing all my Facebook mothers a Happy Mother’s Day! For those of us whose dear mothers have been called Home, may each of us, who are Believers, take great joy in remembering that a few years or perhaps decades of separation from your dear mother pales in comparison to an eternity of forevers with her.

    Ponder this and go forth.