But of the women in my life, she is the woman I most remember as "mom".
So this Mother's Day, I want to offer one of the most important lessons Sarah taught me.
That is, motherhood is not the greatest good for a woman.
Of all the memories I have of Sarah, it isn't her kindness in taking a "difficult" little boy under her wings, even at her advanced age. It isn't that she was renowned for shooing me out of a freshly cleaned kitchen by means of a broom handle. It certainly isn't for all the time she literally caught my hand in her Mother Hen cookie jar, trying to free some of the captive vanilla wafers.
No, of all the memories I have of Sarah, it's how she refused to participate in the sentamentalism of Mother's Day. Sarah knew -- and she passed on to me, even when I didn't realize she was passing it on to me -- that the greatest good is being conformed to the image of the Christ to the glory of God.
You see, Sarah was a Christian -- in the way Christians ought to be Christian. She was a Christian in the way she was kind, gentle, loving, responsible, honest. But not so that she might draw attention to herself. Sarah was a Christian because she wanted to draw attention to Jesus, even without naming Jesus or talking Jesus-ese.
There's no doubt that motherhood is certainly one of the ways in which God accomplishes conforming women into the image of Christ. But motherhood isn't the end in itself. Being a mom didn't make Sarah saintly. Believe me.
That's because, Sarah had a temper -- and she wasn't afraid to use it, even if in using it she would be rather unholy.
Being a mom can expose all the ways women are sinners. But not being a mom can do that, too.
So each Mother's Day, when those women who've lost children -- either through miscarriages or other losses -- feel less like a woman, I think it's important to hold up examples like Sarah. Because the greatest good of Mother's Day isn't in being a mother. It's in being conformed to the image of Christ.
It's in learning to live as Christ lived. It's in following in his steps.
Which Sarah certainly did.
Mother's Day, it seems, has become another of America's sacred festivals. Americans spend record amounts of money on Mother's Day. And most churches will doubtless find one way or another of mentioning "moms" this coming Sunday.
Odes to mom will be shared. Special music will be played, and they'll probably share pictures that will make everyone cry.
But I wonder how many of us -- and I wonder this because Sarah was my "mom" -- will honor our Mother who gives life to all.
Because of Sarah, I'm drawn to Julian of Norwich.
One of the most beautiful theologies of what happened on the cross was given to the world by Julian of Norwich. At the age of 31 and a half (ca. 1373), she suffered from a potentially life-ending illness. As she neared death, Julian experienced sixteen intense revelations, or "showings", as she named them, of Jesus. Upon recovering, Julian wrote a narration of the visions. This recording, along with a theological expansion of each showing written about 20-30 years later became Revelations of Divine Love. Julian's work is believed to be the first book written in the English language by a woman.
Unique to Julian's theology is the motherhood of God. Beyond giving us life via creation, God lovingly took a greater step in bearing us to eternal life. Christ revealed himself to Julian as mother, the mother who gave all of humanity new life through the labor pains of the cross.
[Our] great God, the most sovereign wisdom of all ... dressed himself in our poor flesh to do the service and duties of motherhood in every way. The mother's service is the closest, the most helpful and the most sure, for it is the most faithful. No one ever might, nor could, nor has performed this service fully but he alone. We know that our mothers only bring us into the world to suffer and die, but our true mother, Jesus, he who is all love, bears us into joy and eternal life; blessed may he be! So he sustains us within himself in love and was in labor for the full time until he suffered the sharpest pangs and the most grievous sufferings that ever were or shall be, and at the last he died. And when it was finished and he had borne us into bliss, even this could not fully satisfy his marvelous love, and that he showed in these high surpassing words of love, 'If I could suffer more, I would suffer more.'Look at the difference between how Julian describes Jesus and how most of us have grown up picturing Jesus. God is not angry. God isn't demanding recompense for sin or a perfect blood sacrifice. God is displaying love, love and more love.
The cross, I remember Sarah teaching me as a child, is God's way of showing humanity the extravagant extents God will go to help us understand how deeply, widely and completely we are loved.
As beautiful as this is, Julian's vision does not stop there. Not only does our Christ -- our Mother -- suffer out of amazing love to bring us to eternal life, he nourishes us by feeding us himself -- his body and blood that are our Sacrament. He also nurses us "through his sweet open side". And as we nurse, Christ looks up on us, his children and rejoices: "Look how I love you".
Human mothers blow it. I know that from my own life. And I've seen it in the lives of so many others. Even Sarah knew it.
Which is why Sarah taught me something far more important than sentimentalizing Mother's Day.
There is One who won't let us down, abandon us, harass us, bully or abuse us, never stop loving us. Jesus labored and gave us life so that we might live, and have life abundantly.
So today I just want to say thank you to "mom" -- a woman without whom I would never have known the Jesus who is my Mother.