Dr. Peter Marshall was a well-known preacher from Atlanta. He is best remembered for being the twice serving Chaplain of the United States Senate and for a biography A Man Called Peter written by his widow. He used to tell a great story known as the Keeper of the Spring.
“Once, there was a quiet forest dweller who lived high above an Austrian village along the eastern slope of the Alps.
The old gentleman had been hired many years earlier by a young town councilman to clear away the debris from the pools of water up in the mountain crevices that fed the lovely spring flowing through their town.
With faithful, silent regularity, he patrolled the hills, removed the leaves and branches, and wiped away the silt that would otherwise have choked and contaminated the fresh flow of water.
The village soon became a popular attraction for vacationers. Graceful swans floated along the crystal clear spring, the mill wheels of various businesses located near the water turned day and night, farmlands were naturally irrigated, and the view from restaurants was picturesque beyond description.
Years passed. One evening the town council met for its semiannual meeting. As they reviewed the budget, one man’s eye caught the salary figure being paid the obscure keeper of the spring. Said the keeper of the purse, “Who is the old man? Why do we keep him on year after year? No one ever sees him. For all we know, the strange ranger of the hills is doing us no good. He isn’t necessary any longer.” By a unanimous vote, they dispensed with the old man’s services.
For several weeks, nothing changed.
By early autumn, the trees began to shed their leaves. Small branches snapped off and fell into the pools, hindering the rushing flow of sparkling water.
One afternoon someone noticed a slight yellowish-brown tint in the spring. A few days later, the water was much darker. Within another week, a slimy film covered sections of the water along the banks, and a foul odor was soon detected. The mill wheels moved more slowly, some finally ground to a halt. Swans left, as did the tourists. Clammy fingers of disease and sickness reached deeply into the village.
Quickly, the embarrassed council called a special meeting. Realizing their gross error in judgment, they rehired the old keeper of the spring, and within a few weeks, the veritable river of life began to clear up. The wheels started to turn, and new life returned to the hamlet in the Alps.”
Mothers, you are the Keeper of the Spring. Yours can be a thankless job. You spend hours and hours at seemingly mundane tasks. Culture doesn’t applaud you. Magazines don’t sing your praises. Your calling in life doesn’t reimburse well. Yet, we minimize your contribution at our peril.
If there ever was a time in this country when we need mothers, the time is now. The virtues of selflessness, love, generosity, and integrity are in short supply, but for you, these virtues run deep. You keep our waters pure and unpolluted. You keep our shores beautiful and vibrant. You are the backbone of our homes, our neighborhoods, our cities, our states, and our country.
So to all mothers out there, thank you!
To my mother: thank you for your love, and your encouragement. You taught me about the most important things in my life: God, family, hard work, integrity, and loyalty. You believed in me, when I had a hard time believing in myself. I am blessed to call you Mom!
To the Mother of my children: thank you for being the best thing that has ever happened to me. You have been there by my side through my mountaintops and valleys. Your love inspires me to be a better man everyday. I can’t imagine where I would be without you. Thank you choosing to spend your life with me.