The unexplainable power of a mother's love

We usually only celebrate mothers on Mother's Day, but we should celebrate the phenomenon of a mother's love all year. I was reminded of this priceless commodity one evening, while watching an elderly woman lovingly holding a baby in the upright position that all experienced mothers use to burp their infants. The local nursing home resident was so intent on her task that she was oblivious to those around her.

Appearing to be well into her 80s, she cradled her tiny charge, who was wrapped in a pastel receiving blanket, as though it were a fragile doll. Maybe, that's because it really was a porcelain doll, and not a visiting great-grandbaby.

The other residents in the sitting room passively accepted her delusion of nurturing the inanimate creature. Yet the gray-haired senior was as content as the young mother I observed a few weeks later in a coffee shop who seemed transfixed with awe. She was studying the face of her baby girl who was loudly sucking milk from a plastic bottle.

We call this dynamic force the unexplainable power of a mother's love. Interestingly enough, this force can attack even the most intelligent, unsuspecting, and rational women, including those who have never birthed children.

An example of this selfless love can be witnessed in a Lima kindergarten teacher. The young female educator bought 22 pairs of children's mittens this past winter after one of her pupils showed up at school crying because of painfully cold, gloveless hands. How many of us would be willing to spend our hard-earned money on someone else's child? Only someone with a mother's heart.

A mother's sacrificial love is also evident in the age-old account of King Solomon's intervention between two women fighting over a newborn. One claimed the other female's son had died when his mother rolled over on him during the night. But the other woman said this was untrue, and the living child was hers.

King Solomon listened patiently as the pair argued their tragic story. With great wisdom, he asked for a sword to cut the baby in half, when the true mother cried out, "Give her the living baby, and by no means kill him." He discerned that only a real mother would be willing to give up ownership of a child she loved to spare its life.

Mother's love is also a supernatural force, which can overpower an ordinary woman enabling her to do the most courageous feats. For example, what about the mid-August Associated Press story about California mom Jessica Higgins, who prematurely gave birth to a daughter on her front lawn? Returning home from a shopping trip, the 36-year-old was all alone except for her 2-year-old son when she realized her baby was about to arrive six weeks early. She called 911, but by the time help arrived, "She was just standing in the driveway rocking the newborn, who was still attached to the placenta," according to Officer Manny Ramos.

It was another AP account of an Ohio teen this past spring that rekindled my faith in the sometimes miraculous power of motherhood. The article was about 13-year-old Lauren Durnbaugh, of Lithopolis, who was home alone when her house was broken into by two burglars. Lauren crawled into her bed and frantically sent a text message to her mom, 53-year-old Margo Ruby, who was working 15 minutes away at a Columbus car dealership telling her, "We're being robbed."

Ruby sped home, calling 911 on the way. When she arrived, Ruby rammed into the back of the robbers' vehicle. Good thing she works at a dealership, but remember this was her 13-year-old daughter the burglars were endangering.

When the adrenalin-pumping mom saw one of the suspects, 20-year-old Jenna Burns, leaving her home, she "wrestled" with her just as law officials arrived. Burns and the other suspect, Jeremiah Fyffe, 26, were never aware of Lauren's presence since she was hiding under her bed covers.

In the spirit of the sisterhood of mothers' love everywhere, my commendation to Ruby and Higgins. Good job, Moms!

Christina Ryan Claypool is a freelance journalist, inspirational speaker. Contact her at Christina@christinaryanclaypool.com.