A Mother's Tears
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
57 Stories For Cycle C
Gertrude Schmidt loved being a mother. She truly felt that motherhood was her one true vocation in life. Gertrude's devotion to her calling came most clearly to light after her husband, Horst, died. Gertrude and Horst had had three children of their own. Peter was 12, Monica was 10, and Sebastian was 6 when their father died. Gertrude threw herself into the task of mothering more than ever before.
It was difficult, of course, for Gertrude Schmidt to support her family now that Horst was gone. There was a small pension and social security but that was barely enough to keep the family afloat! Gertrude pondered her situation. She came up with a splendid idea! If she would take in foster children for the state she would be given a stipend for raising them. This was the best of all worlds she thought. She could go on being what she wanted to be: a mother. And, she would make additional money in the process.
It wasn't easy for Gertrude Schmidt to convince the social agency that she ought to be allowed to raise foster children. Normally such children were only assigned to homes with two parents. But Gertrude persisted. This one time, therefore, the agency made an exception. They began to assign foster children to the care of Gertrude Schmidt.
Gertrude was overjoyed at this turn of events. She plunged into motherhood with more gusto than ever. She loved her own children. She loved the foster children who were assigned to her. She spoke of them all tenderly referring to them often as, "my flock."
Over the years, however Gertrude Schmidt's joy at being a mother turned into grief. The first foster child she took in was a 15-year-old boy named Gary. Gary had been in and out of many foster homes leaving much trouble in his wake. Gertrude was undeterred. She would take Gary in and love him into manhood. But it didn't work. Gary ran with a rough crowd. One night he had been with some boys who were drinking. There was an automobile accident. Gary was killed. And Gertrude wept.
Her own son, Peter, had really taken to Gary. He, too, was filled with grief over Gary's accidental death. In his grief Peter turned sullen. He spoke hardly a word. And then one day, Peter was gone. No note, no words of farewell, simply gone. Grief had driven him to the chase. And Gertrude wept.
A second foster child, a girl named Cynthia, came to live under the loving care and protection of Gertrude Schmidt. Cynthia had originally come from a very wealthy home. She was quite spoiled. It was hard for her to take the near poverty conditions that reigned at Gertrude Schmidt's place. She wanted so many things. She wanted them so badly that she began to steal them. Cynthia was caught shoplifting several times. The judge, listening to Gertrude's loving pleas, tried to be lenient. Leniency did not work, however, and Cynthia was finally put in juvenile detention.
Once again, Gertrude wept. Her heart was broken. She had given all of the love she could muster to her "flock." If only she could just gather them all up in her arms and love them. But her love was spurned. And Gertrude wept. It's all she knew how to do. Gertrude wept.
It was difficult, of course, for Gertrude Schmidt to support her family now that Horst was gone. There was a small pension and social security but that was barely enough to keep the family afloat! Gertrude pondered her situation. She came up with a splendid idea! If she would take in foster children for the state she would be given a stipend for raising them. This was the best of all worlds she thought. She could go on being what she wanted to be: a mother. And, she would make additional money in the process.
It wasn't easy for Gertrude Schmidt to convince the social agency that she ought to be allowed to raise foster children. Normally such children were only assigned to homes with two parents. But Gertrude persisted. This one time, therefore, the agency made an exception. They began to assign foster children to the care of Gertrude Schmidt.
Gertrude was overjoyed at this turn of events. She plunged into motherhood with more gusto than ever. She loved her own children. She loved the foster children who were assigned to her. She spoke of them all tenderly referring to them often as, "my flock."
Over the years, however Gertrude Schmidt's joy at being a mother turned into grief. The first foster child she took in was a 15-year-old boy named Gary. Gary had been in and out of many foster homes leaving much trouble in his wake. Gertrude was undeterred. She would take Gary in and love him into manhood. But it didn't work. Gary ran with a rough crowd. One night he had been with some boys who were drinking. There was an automobile accident. Gary was killed. And Gertrude wept.
Her own son, Peter, had really taken to Gary. He, too, was filled with grief over Gary's accidental death. In his grief Peter turned sullen. He spoke hardly a word. And then one day, Peter was gone. No note, no words of farewell, simply gone. Grief had driven him to the chase. And Gertrude wept.
A second foster child, a girl named Cynthia, came to live under the loving care and protection of Gertrude Schmidt. Cynthia had originally come from a very wealthy home. She was quite spoiled. It was hard for her to take the near poverty conditions that reigned at Gertrude Schmidt's place. She wanted so many things. She wanted them so badly that she began to steal them. Cynthia was caught shoplifting several times. The judge, listening to Gertrude's loving pleas, tried to be lenient. Leniency did not work, however, and Cynthia was finally put in juvenile detention.
Once again, Gertrude wept. Her heart was broken. She had given all of the love she could muster to her "flock." If only she could just gather them all up in her arms and love them. But her love was spurned. And Gertrude wept. It's all she knew how to do. Gertrude wept.
