A Basket

A basket.

A mother—Jochebed.

She was the mother of Moses.

I have thought about her many times throughout my motherhood journey. Knowing her son was in danger, Jochebed covered a basket in tar and pitch and placed it in the reeds of the Nile River. She placed her baby in the water.

And at the same time, she placed her faith in the Lord.

Faith over fear.

I imagine her love for her son as she covered the basket in tar and pitch—doing all she could to keep him safe. I think about her overwhelming love for him—loving him enough to let him go.

I wonder what she was thinking as she placed the basket holding her precious son in the water.

Maybe fear, maybe unbelievable sadness, maybe there were tears.

She had to put him in the water, and then she had to walk away. There had to be pain in the walking away. But there had to be hope. Hope for a future for her son. Hope for a journey that would ultimately lead him back to her. She had to let him go in order to save him.

I think about her. I think about her faith. And, I think about letting go.

Recently, a dear friend who has raised four children, shared with me her struggle with one of her children. She told me about her many dark days. She told me of the days when she would walk through her house saying, “Lord, take my basket.”

Take my basket.

Oh, she knows Jochebed. She understands Jochebed. I do, too.

As mothers, I think we all do at some point.

But my friend also shared how she is on the other side of pain. How her son was pulled from the reeds. Jochebed’s son was pulled from the reeds as well—Moses.

It was a mother’s love. A mother’s faith. It was tar and pitch placed by his mother’s hands. And it was a simple basket. God had a plan all along.

Yes, indeed. He is a good, good Father.