Poetry and Stories

For those who are lucky to still be blessed with your Mom this is beautiful. For those who aren't, this is even more beautiful.

The young mother set her foot on the path of life.
"Is this the long way?�
She asked. And the guide said, "Yes, and the way is hard.
And you will be old before you reach the end of it.
But the end will be better than the beginning."

But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years.
So she played with her children, she fed them and bathed them, and taught them how to tie their shoes and ride a bike and reminded them to feed the dog, and do their homework and brush their teeth.

The sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."

Then the nights came, and the storms, and the path was sometimes dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her arms, and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, no harm can come."

And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary.
But at all times she said to the children, A little patience and we are there."
So the children climbed, and as they climbed they learned to weather the storms.
And with this, she gave them strength to face the world.
Year after year, she showed them compassion, understanding, hope, but most of all.... unconditional love.
And when they reached the top they said, "Mother, we would not have done it without you."

The days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old and she became little and bent.
But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage.

The mother, when she lay down at night, looked up at the stars & said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned so much and are passing these traits to their children."

And when the way became rough for her, they lifted her, and gave her their strength, just as she had given them hers.

One day they came to a hill, and beyond the hill, they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.
And mother said: "I have reached the end of my journey.
Now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk with dignity and pride, with their heads held high, and so can their children after them."

And the children said, " You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates."
And they stood & watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her.
And they said: "We cannot see her, but she is with us still.
A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence."

Your Mother is always with you.
She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she's the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume that she wore, she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well, she's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day.
She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning.

Your Mother lives inside your laughter.
And she's crystallized in every teardrop.
A mother shows every emotion..........happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrow...and all the while, hoping & praying you will only know the good feelings in life.
She's the place you came from, your first home, and she's the map you follow with every step you take.

She's your first love; your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you.
Not time, not space...........not even death!

The Special Mother

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures and a couple by habit.
This year thousands of mothers will give birth to a premature baby.
Did you ever wonder how mothers of preemies are chosen? Somehow, I visualize God hovering over Earth selecting His instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation.
As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger.
�Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron saint, Matthew.
�Forest, Majorie, daughter. Patron saint, Ceceila.
�Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron saint... give her Gerard. He�s used to profanity.
Finally, He passes a name to an angel and smiles, �Give her a premature baby.�
The angel is curious. �Why this one, God? She�s so happy.�
�Exactly, � smiles God. �Could I give a premature baby a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel.�
�But does she have patience?� asks the angel.
�I don�t want her to have too much patience, or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off, she�ll handle it.
�I watched her today.
She has that sense of self and independence that are so rare and so necessary in a mother.
You see, the child I�m going to give her has his own world.
She has to make it live in her world and that�s not going to be easy.�
�But, Lord, I don�t think she even believes in you.�
God smiles, �No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness.�
The angel gasps, �Selfishness? Is that a virtue?�
God nods. �If she can�t separate herself from the child occasionally, she�ll never survive.
Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child who comes in a less than perfect way.
She doesn�t realize it yet, but she is to be envied. �She will never take for granted a spoken word.
She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says �Mommy� for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it.
When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations.
�I will permit her to see clearly the things I see - ignorance, cruelty, prejudice - and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone.
I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.�
�And what about her patron saint?� asks the angel, the pen poised in mid-air.
God smiles. �A mirror will suffice.�
Adapted from Erma Bombeck Motherhood The Second Oldest Profession

Thoughts on becoming a mother:

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.
I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.
I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.
Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.
I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.
I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him� and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream � my dream will be crying for me.
I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.
Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.
I will be a better mother for all that I have endured�
I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain, known disillusionment, been betrayed by my own body� been tried by fire and hell many never face � yet given time, I stood tall. I have prevailed. I have succeeded. I have won.
So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.
I listen. And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely.
I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept harsh truth, when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes. I have learned to appreciate life.
Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.

Your Baby's Angel

A baby asked God, "They tell me you are sending me to earth Tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"
"Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you."
The child further inquired, "But tell me, here in heaven I don't have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy."
God said, "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you will feel your angel's love and be very happy."
Again the child asked, "And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don't know the language?"
God said, "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."
"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"
God said, "Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."
"Who will protect me?"
God said, "Your angel will defend you even if it means risking it's life."
"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."
God said, "Your angel will always talk to you about Me and will teach you the way to come back to Me, even though I will always be next to you."
At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, "God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."
"You will simply call her, "Mom."

TO A FIRST TIME MOTHER

Relax my dear... your little elf is just an amateur herself.
So if your hands so newly filled with tasks seem somewhat less than skilled...Relax I say,
This little pinkling doesn't have the slightest inkling that you are new to baby lore...
She never had a Mom before
Author Unknown

Indian Child
Poems about Babies
Labor of Love

Please e-mail me with the any poems or stories you want listed.

March 18, 2005

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