Lessons from Momsense

An earthquake was coming as the hippie counterculture protested the status quo and then took a wrecking ball to the worthless—and the worthy societal conventions. A revolution was readying. Change was percolating. ­The pendulum would soon swing with a powerful force away from limitations to social permissiveness. The winter before that spring hospital visit to mom, the youthful Beatles debuted on American television on the Ed Sullivan Show.
“You have to see this!” announced sweet Grandma excitedly.
With my family at my grandparent’s home that famed evening in American television history, we gathered together and observed this turning point event. It was as Mr. Sullivan informed us, “a really big show.” Along with 73 million other Americans parked in front of their TV sets, my family stared transfixed at my grandparents’ big box wooden television console. We watched what would come to be considered a revolution. Girls shouted and swooned as a mop top English rock band, the Beatles, crooned boisterous teenage love songs, beginning the evening with, “All My Loving.”
That notable night, not with troops, but with troubadours, another British invasion of America began, and a cultural revolution commenced. Soon, the folk-rock singer Bob Dylan noted, the times they would be a-changin’. But that sunny spring day when we went to see mom at the hospital, the times had not changed. We all followed the strict ordinances for our visit. Since children were not allowed inside the building, we stood outside the hospital on the sidewalk below her window.
We, going to visit mom, meant Grandma brought me, my older brother, and now a blue-eyed baby brother, John D. This was the child I thought my father really wanted. My father proudly proclaimed at his birth, “He’s named after John D. Rockefeller,” known as America’s first billionaire.
That day, a visit with Grandmother to the hospital meant mom would stand by her fourth-floor window, wave to us on the sidewalk below and attempt to shout out a few words.
Outside the hospital located off the bustling street of Irving Park Road minutes from Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs, in the locale of the old Riverview Amusement Park, where crowds traveled to ride the famous Bobs roller coaster, traffic buzzed by us to the then, all-boys’ high school, Lane Tech, and whizzed along to the nearby WGN studios, home of Bozo’s Circus.
There, at that busy urban street corner, I waved wildly to my mother who was standing by her open window.
I jumped up and down wailing, “Hello! Hello!”
Mom waved back.
Then I screeched, “Mom, why are you in the hospital?” I shouted that question over and over, but Mom never seemed able to hear my question. She yelled out her answers to other queries. But she never answered mine.
Selective hearing, that’s momsense.
Why is that momsense? I’ll tell you why. Here’s how that hospital visit would have gone if mom would have answered my question. From the busy city walkway below I yell, “Mom, why are you in the hospital?”
From her fourth-floor window, Mom shouts out, “I have hemorrhoids!”
I shout back, “What’s that, Mom?”
Mothers do not answer every question their children ask when they ask it. Moms are like the iconic Wonder Woman of the 1970s TV show. One, they make their children wonder why they do the things they do. And two, mothers have superpowers. Along with the extraordinary visual acuity that moms possess—the paranormal phenomenon that mothers have that is known as eyes in the back of their head—selective hearing is another one of a mom’s amazing superpowers. Selective hearing is the amazing ability to not hear.
Selective hearing and answering— that’s momsense.
In the rollicking, change-the-world ‘60s, a band, the Byrds, recorded an international hit song with this timeless statement from the Bible, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Eccl. 3:1 KJV). The Seekers and the rock-and-roller, Bruce Springsteen, also recorded this song named, “Turn! Turn! Turn!”
In a time of intense social upheaval, God’s word’s still reigned as perennial wisdom. The sage text of the third chapter of the Old Testament Book of the Bible, written by King Solomon around 935 BC, Ecclesiastes,1–8 addresses special times and the unique role these play during seasons of our lives. First recorded in the baby boomer years, it is the eternal God’s words of wisdom for all generations.

To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to gain, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace.

One day it would be time to leave home, to rebel, to throw stones, and refrain from embracing. Another day, it would be time for the wayward child to come home. For the twists and turnings of life, the pandemics, the protests, and the prodigals are all under God’s omnipotent control. There is a time for every purpose under heaven.