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The Power of the Blessing…

By Dr. Gail M. Hayes

One generation shall praise Your works to another,
And shall declare Your mighty acts.
Psalms 145:4 NKJV

Viewing the program cover, I knew the message I prepared was not what I was supposed to say that evening. Tears streamed down my cheeks and streaked my makeup as I viewed the picture of three generations of women that smiled at me from the printed pages. One could see the grandmother and mother holding, touching and looking into the eyes of the baby daughter. She was their future. Both the grandmother and mother looked with hope at the third generation. Clouds and snow white doves surrounded their beauty, making them resemble a heavenly trio, standing in God’s presence.

After putting aside my agenda, it seemed that everything was going to go right. Even the message I planned to present seemed perfect. I would see tears. I would hear sighs. I would even see mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, reach for one another as the evening progressed. I knew that the message on mothers and daughters would especially pull some heartstrings, including my own because at that time in my life, my mother and I always clashed.

For most of my life, all I wanted was to please her. All I wanted was to hear those sweet words, “I’m proud of you, Gail.” Those words did come in cards but in her presence, one would never believe that this woman, my mother could utter sweetness and light to four of her five daughters.

Yes, there was the fifth daughter. Her favorite. As children and as young adults, this favorite situation ate away at our hearts and spirits like a ravenous cancer. Some of us became crazed with anger. Some went into mental institutions to lick our wounds. Some tried to commit suicide but the favorite situation never changed. Pain did not change it. Hoping did not change it. Even with prayer, it appeared unchanged. It left its mark on all of us, even the favorite. But tonight, I decided that I would pull the cover off the situation and let mothers know that when they decide to “play favorites” it rips their children and families apart. I decided to expose my mother in public.

As I entered the banquet hall, I headed towards my seat, walking with resolve. What I did not know was that God had an unexpected surprise for me; one that I could never have imagined. As I viewed my unexpected guest, my eyes filled with a gentle mist of silent tears. Without my permission, the icy hardness of my heart began to thaw in heat of the moment. I saw my profile in the curve of her face. I heard the familiar sound of my voice each time she spoke. I watched her movements, knowing that they too were my own.

Even her manner of dress called my name. Her winter white, sequin sweater with a large fox collar, accentuated with pearl accessories shouted to all in attendance this lady and I had much in common. This beautiful woman whose presence surprised me and held all within her sphere of influence in wonder was my mother.
I nearly collapsed with joy mixed with fear. She had never surprised me like this before. When I told her about my speaking engagements, she usually appeared to be uninterested and even if I spoke in her city, she did not attend. But this evening, her presence caused a wave of childlike excitement in me. It caused me to seek God for what He really wanted said during this evening. I knew that I was in for a surprise, but had no idea just how much of a surprise my Father had for me.

During the keynote address, I spoke openly of my life experiences. As I shared my feelings, God helped me bring to life, glimpses of childhood pain without placing blame. God then helped me to share on a subject on which I was unfamiliar. He told me to share the impact of the parental blessing.

As I stood before the crowd that evening, flashes of my childhood danced in my memory. God pulled from my memory bank, things I had long forgotten. The evening transported me back to the early 1960’s. I stood with my two sisters and mother at the bus stop on Sunday morning. The bus stopped near our home and arrived filled with children. The only adult on the bus was the driver. My sisters and I got on the bus and did not wave good-bye to our mother like the other children. Mom was a Sunday school teacher and rode with us on the bus.

Mom could not drive but she did not allow this to stop her. Many other personal issues, like a tedious marriage tried to hold her captive but to no avail. Nothing could stop her from attending and taking us to church. She taught Sunday school and then we all stayed for church. Even in the face of great personal pressures, she persevered and taught us about the Lord. Later in life, I too, I taught Sunday and Vacation Bible School and sang in the choir. This was the legacy my mother passed on to me. In my selfish hunger to receive from my mother, I had forgotten that my mother talked and walked her faith before us.

The evening ended with my asking the attendees what they passed to the next generation. I then charged them to bless their children. Age was unimportant. Children, no matter what their age, long for the parental blessing. I told them to make the calls and speak life to those “missing” children. I let them know that it was not too late to bless. It was not too late to give or receive the blessing. Little did I know the impact these words would have on my life.

As I walked Mom to her car in the night cold, she smiled. She bent into the front seat and produced a fur cape she brought for me. Although the cape was beautiful, there was another gift Mom gave me that night that changed me forever. As she put the cape around my shoulders, Mom pulled me close, looked me in my eyes, held my hands and blessed me. Favorites did not matter. Past pain, negative whispers, and desperate longing did not matter.

Mom told me that I was beautiful. She told me that she was proud of me. She held me close and let me know by the power of her hug that she heard my heart’s cry. This moment showed me that although I was almost 50 years old, I was still her child and that only her hug could bring wholeness to me in that moment. My longing moved her to act.

This was our moment. I closed my eyes and let my head fall on her shoulder. My tears wet her coat as she stroked my hair. On that icy winter night, when others were hurrying in from the cold, we stood in the warmth of God’s love and power. A mother and daughter enveloped in the blessing.

Her words, like honey cut through debris held fast by past pain’s ugly hands. Her words, like a sword cut the cords of hopelessness, self hatred, procrastination, and rejection. They released a flow of power that still today propels me forward to my destiny. They freed the hurting child and allowed the woman to stand and be recognized. Thank you Mom for setting me free. Thank you for the blessing.

Dr. Gail Hayes is an author and speaker who delights in helping others discover identity, grasp purpose, and fulfill destiny. You can reach Dr. Gail through her website atwww.daughtersoftheking.org

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