Mother's Day Short Stories

By D. I. Telbat

In Honor of Mother . . .

 

This collection of 20 Christian Mother's Day Short Stories by D.I. Telbat is written for mothers and about mothers around the world. Where there is sacrificial love, there is a mother praying. Where there is a son who has gone astray, a mother is weeping. Where there is a daughter who is heartbroken, a mother offers her embrace.

 

For every mother, for every occasion, this collection honors those who can't be honored enough. To all the mothers in our lives—Happy Mother's Day!

 

This collection of 20 short stories has 29,000 words and will be available in eBook and Paperback versions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: In Season Publications
• Release date: Apr 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393493273

D. I. Telbat

D. I. (David) Telbat is a Christian author best known for his clean, Suspenseful Fiction with a Faith Focus, which includes his bestseller and award-winning COIL Series, Steadfast Series, and several other suspense and End Times novels. He wrote his first book at age 14, and hasn't stopped since!Through David's weekly D.I. Telbat Newsletter, he provides free Christian short stories, or his Author Reflections, or his novel news. Many of D.I. Telbat's stories are about persecuted Christians—their sacrifice, suffering, and rescues.Getting into trouble with the law as a young man became a turning point in David's life. The Lord used that experience to draw David into a personal relationship with Him. Re-focusing his life for Christ, David now seeks to honor God with his life and his writing.David studied writing in college, and worked for a time in the newspaper field, but he is now doing what he loves most--writing and Christian ministry. When not busy writing Christian novels, you will find him teaching/preaching/discipling, and writing curriculum for Christians in the prison system.Though D.I. Telbat is currently living on the West Coast, he has kept his home office in the Northwest U.S. where his assistant, Dee, lives and helps with his research and editing needs.There is no redemption without sacrifice.

Book preview

Mother's Day Short Stories

A Collection

D.I. Telbat

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Copyright © 2020 D.I. Telbat

All rights reserved

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Cover painting by

J. Lawson

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DITelbat.com

D.I. Telbat Author Pages

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Book Funnel: For All Readers

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These stories are a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

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Dedication

To mothers who pray, and to mothers who give,

To all of those mothers who taught us to live.

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Acknowledgements

This is a special collection of stories that spans back many years, some of them dedicated to my own mother long ago. Thanks to Dee who kept them on file and encouraged me to keep adding yearly to what would someday become this little book. Thank you also to our Beta Readers who have helped fine-tune what this collection finally came to be.

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Table of Contents

Title & Copyright

Dedication & Acknowledgments

Author Note

1. God's Ambassador in Syria

2. Honorary Mother

3. A Fine Mother's Day Gift

4. Everyone's Mother

5. To Love as a Mother

6. Joy in the Tears

7. A Mother's Prayer

8. The Missing One

9. The Following Night

10. Returning Home

11. Five Year Wait

12. A Mother's Faith

13. The Bulletin Board

14. Mother to Mother

15. Mothers of Faith Mini-Series

16. Mothers of Faith, Chapter Two–Jill Gordon

17. Mothers of Faith, Chapter Three–Sara Foxx

18. Mothers of Faith, Chapter Four–Melissa Hill

19. Mothers of Faith, Chapter Five–Anita Clark

20. Mothers of Faith, Chapter Six–Conclusion

Other Books by D.I. Telbat

About the Author

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Author Note

Dear Reader,

We could all write stories about our mothers or someone else's mother who mothered us. I have been blessed to have a mother who has been my teacher, my nurse, my supporter, and my corrector. As a youngster, I witnessed my mother tend to her own children, neighbors' children, and even other mothers who needed mothering.

My life would've been much different, and not for the better, if my mother had not taken the initiative at important moments to sacrifice her time and sleep for us kids. She taught, trained and exemplified perfected love from her own heart. Now as an adult with a little gray entering my beard, I still need my mother. I rely on her counsel, encouragements, and prayer.

It's an honor to flavor all of these stories with a sense of my own mother. But I also have the pleasure of writing about all kinds of mothers, as well as women who have no children, yet are mothers in their own way. There is such a variety of stories here that I hope you see your own mother pictured, and perhaps something you read will incline your heart to let her know how special she is to you.

For you mothers out there, Happy Mothers Day!

David Telbat

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1 – God's Ambassador in Syria

Note from the author: Some mothers express their Christian zeal quietly, and others are outspoken. I wrote the following story to honor the mothers who sometimes forego what is socially or culturally acceptable or safe—all for the sake of sharing Christ. They throw caution to the wind to love, care, and serve others. They make themselves vulnerable and entrust themselves to God. Our world wouldn't be the same without such zeal!—David Telbat

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This was the first emergency in Aleppo since ISIS had pulled out, but Greg Nelson was prepared. He'd been living in Northern Syria for two years, always on standby, ready for anything. Officially, he was a water systems specialist. For a few dollars, or Syrian pounds, he installed reverse humidifiers for families who needed fresh water in their rebuilt apartments. Unofficially, he was a secret agent for Jesus Christ.

The emergency had come to him over the satellite system he logged onto every twelve hours for updates and alerts. The alert had notified him specifically that a Christian woman had been kidnapped by a Muslim brigade who called themselves Allah's Red Army. They were only a dozen men, but over the months, Greg had seen their handiwork against Westerners, Christians, and pro-government entities. Even knowing about their hideout across town, Greg still hadn't been able to foil their plans or catch them in the act. Until now.

At sundown, Greg walked briskly down what he called Z Street, since it twisted left and right and left again in the span of ten blocks. It was one of the many streets in Aleppo that was still choked by rubble from Syria's civil war. But the city was rebuilding. And he was part of that rebuilding as he installed the water systems and shared the love of Jesus Christ in Arabic. More civilians returned to the city each day. Every family needed water, and every soul needed Jesus.

Near a mosque, Greg entered an alley and climbed through a garbage heap. Sanitation services weren't yet in order, but soon the city would be more functional. As he walked, Greg prayed for the might of Joshua in the Bible, and the courage of David when he'd fought Goliath. And he prayed that God would help him use his wits against an enemy who would kill him as quickly as they would a dog on the street.

The Allah's Red Army hideout came into sight, and Greg leaned against the wall across the street. For several moments, he watched the building and studied the street. Over the months, he'd surveyed the structure from various angles, looking for weaknesses, seeking advantages, memorizing the contours of the buildings. It had all led to this night, when he could save a woman's life—unless he hesitated or drew back in fear.

Was the woman a recent Syrian convert? Or a veteran Christian who'd been discovered accidentally? Maybe she was someone he'd already led to Christ, and now he could recover her! The alert hadn't said who she was, only that a Red Army operator had been recognized when he'd used a taxi to kidnap a woman. Many women all across the Middle East had been caught listening to Christian radio messages, or reading their hidden Bibles, which led to extremists arranging for their violent demise.

A truck rumbled up the street. Greg withdrew into the doorway of an empty shop. He didn't have time to postpone this rescue. Ever since his mother had learned that Aleppo was moderately safe to visit, she'd wanted to come see her son in his missionary work. She knew he was using the water system business as a cover to remain in Syria, but Greg had kept his covert work against extremists a secret from her. After all, if his mother knew he was risking his life more than he'd admitted, that would only add to her worry.

Checking his watch, Greg considered his time limitations. If his mother arrived on that evening's flight as scheduled, he needed to be at the airport by midnight. That didn't leave him much time to recover the kidnapped Christian, get her to safety, and hustle to the airport to pretend he'd had a pleasant evening setting up water systems. Her visit was going to be even more special since Mother's Day was only three days away, and they hadn't seen each other for two years!

Another pressing reason Greg wanted to pick up his mother personally from the airport was that she'd often shown disregard for personal concern when she witnessed to strangers. In America, that was okay—though it was more and more frowned upon. But in the broken city of Aleppo, if Greg didn't pick her up on time, she was liable to begin talking to people about the gospel message in English. Since she would arrive in all her Western apparel and Christian fervor, she'd be easily spotted by an adverse third party, who often hunted for such targets to boost their cause publicly.

Greg waited until the truck was down the street, then moved into the moonlight to approach the Red Army's headquarters. The building had once been a thriving cafe before the war, he'd heard, but now it was a hangout for jihadists—yet with a red and white Coca-Cola sign still out front. There were two living apartments above the cafe. Judging by the group's activities in the city, Greg guessed that the two apartments were operation staging rooms, or possibly living quarters for wanted terrorists.

Instead of approaching the front of the building, Greg went around back. The Red Army was so confident of their intimidating influence in Aleppo, there wasn't even a guard stationed outside to watch for aggressors. Greg wasn't their enemy directly, but he was willing to humble them for making a move against one of God's children.

In the back of