What is Your Worth?

Early morning on the 4th of September, 16 years ago, my mother entered her heavenly home.

Mum was the letter-writer in our family. And I mean actual handwritten letters. So neatly and beautifully scripted – a letter came faithfully every week, almost until the month before she entered the Lord’s presence in 2008. I would wait for those letters. She would fill page upon page (front and back) on her letterhead stationery with news, advice, encouragement, bible verses and prayers.

I was rearranging my cupboard recently and among all the girls’ treasures that I had saved, I found the box in which I had saved many of mum’s letters. The box was crammed full! I spilled it onto my bed and started arranging it by year. The letters began in 1984, when I left home for the very first time. It was like reading a story.

And as I kept reading, I could see my life reflected through her eyes – intertwined with hers. It was a surreal “This is Your Life” show. Every tear I shed – she grieved and prayed; every struggle I went through – she encouraged and prayed; every time I celebrated – she rejoiced and gave thanks. Each letter was a prayer that dripped love.

A few days ago, I received one of those spam emails with the title, “What is your worth?” And as I hit the delete key, a memory floated across my mind.

A couple of days before mum died, a friend dropped by the house to give her an anniversary brochure from the church they attended. It had the names of the different committees and the names of their members over the years, and he said, “Accamma, you should be proud. Your name is mentioned every so often (my mother was well-known for her involvement in church activities, all her life) in the brochure. Mum didn’t say a word and just smiled through that visit. When he had left, I flipped through it and made a big fuss of her and asked if she wanted to keep the brochure as a memento. Mum just murmured, “Why? Man’s praise has no worth.”

The next day, one of her Sunday School students who had heard mum was very ill stopped by our home for a very short visit. She was on her way to the airport, headed back home to Toronto. “I couldn’t leave without telling you this, aunty. In one of your Sunday School classes you taught us the hymn “Master, the tempest is raging…” and made us learn it by heart. You explained the words to us, and though I did not understand it then, along life’s path, that song and the Lord pulled me through so many tough situations. And I’ve always wanted to thank you for that. Thank you.”

Both mum and I had tears rolling down our cheeks after she left. As I turned to mum all I could say was, “now that is of great worth, right mummy?”

Mum breathed her last early the next morning. And I lost a part of my soul. But she left behind in me and the world around her, things of great worth… her unshakeable faith in Jesus, her love for the Word of God, her letters of love & encouragement, her prayers for so many which are even today before the throne as sweet incense, the lives she impacted, and the many souls she led to Christ. Her worth? Priceless!

What is our worth, friends? The older I get the surer I am that it is not our degrees, the money we make, the car that we drive, or the number of rungs on the corporate ladder we climb.

*Only one life, a few brief years, Each with its burdens, hopes, and fears. Each of its days we must fulfill, living for self or in His will. Only one life, ’twill soon be past, What’s done for Christ will only last.

[*Taken from Only One Life by C.T. Studd, 1860-1931]